The Seventh Quell: Half Dead
by Audio Crossfade
Summary: And here it is: the OTHER submit-a-tribute you've all been waiting for! Eventually cowritten by myself and CWL. Welcome to Arena Two, where the odds ARE in your favor. Wait, what? Now complete, oh my.
1. Introduction

Acteo Sellam nervously chewed the nails of one hand, drumming on the lilac desk before him with the other. Him, Head Gamemaker? Well, not Head, exactly, but… Lieutenant, maybe. Something like that.

_It's not a real set of Games,_ he told himself. _I just have to manage Arena Two. Twelve tributes, that's all. All I have to do is get that number down to six so that Teshine can take care of the last round. Just like he always does._

He looked up sharply, studying his reflection in the shiny, gold-tinted screen on the desk. He was a thin, sallow man, almost entirely consumed by the Gamemaker's robes that he wore so nervously, yet so proudly. And now, following the President's announcement of the Seventh Quarter Quell, he had been charged with the Herculean task of building and manipulating the second of the two first-round arenas. The final round, of course, would not be left to one such as him; no, Kennza Teshine, the _real_ Head Gamemaker, was taking care of that. But, of course, Teshine had complained to the President that there was no way he could _possibly_ be expected to administrate three sets of Games, so the first round had been entrusted to him, Acteo, and another, older Gamemaker, Likan Crull.

_Who's probably already off getting his arena built, like he should be. You have a week, Sellam. Seven days before the President expects twelve tributes to go into something you built and six to come out._

_Arena. Arena. Right. I need an arena… something that's never been done before… but nothing too flashy, of course, because Teshine just has to have his own arena steal the show. But his is the final round, I suppose._

The man stood, pacing restlessly through the shadowy, empty room in which the Gamemakers did their jobs. Tomorrow, it would be bustling as the chariots rode through the Capitol, but today… today was the Gamemakers' last day off, or most of them, at least. Sellam stared around ruefully.

_Well, why should I be here? I could use a little rest before this all starts, too. My hair hasn't been dyed in weeks; you can almost see the brown at the roots!_

He leaned toward the shimmering surface of a sleeping terminal, checking to see if he had been correct. To his dismay, he had; clearly an appointment with his colorist was in order. His eyebrows could use some work, too, he realized irritably.

_That's it. I'm leaving. Just let me have one idea I can call in to the architects, just one…_

He rolled his eyes, searching the empty, humming chamber for inspiration.

_Let's see. Hunger. Fighting. Like before Panem. How about something… throwback? A little steampunk, if you will?_

Sellam nodded slowly, his face creased, as he refined the idea.

_It could work. I don't think I've seen it done before… Teshine can't complain, not really… and what if… ooh, yes, I like that, that's very entertaining. And some mutts, too… but only in _some_ places; they can just guess._

He straightened abruptly from his slight hunch, striding impatiently toward the viewscreen and punching it on. Its hum rose in pitch slightly, drowning out the muted buzzes of the dozing technologies crammed into the large room. The screen flickered to life with a hiss, throwing Sellam's hawklike face into sharp relief. Onscreen, a dark-haired man- actually, he looked like little more than a boy- was hunched over a cluttered desk, his head slumped forward onto his hands.

"Kenneth!" the Gamemaker barked, then again, louder, when the youth didn't move. Finally, he sat up, his face pale and haggard.

"You've decided how to kill them this year, then, Sellam? You don't have to do this, you know. Six deaths on your hands. You really think you want that? Being in charge is very different from following orders, you realize that, right?" The man's accent was peculiar.

Acteo's eyes narrowed. "Oh, it will be my idea, but you'll be the one who designs the arena. Make it good."

"Oh, I will. You know I always do. So what's it to be this year?"

xxx

Hey there. I apologize for my little prologue's generous melodrama; I couldn't resist. So, if you've already read this account's profile, you probably already know how this is going to go down, and you can just skip ahead. If not, here are the rules to this year's Quarter Quell, the 175th Hunger Games:

The Reaping will be as usual, with one male and one female chosen from each District. However, the Games will be run a bit… tournament-style, if you will. District 2, 4, 8, 6, 9, and 3 will be in Arena Two, otherwise known as this fic. If you wanted one of the other Districts, I advise you to head over to the other fic on this profile, which is Arena One, containing the remaining Districts. The other fic will be authored by chickenwinglegolas, who is a brilliant writer, so don't choose your fic based on the author; go by the District you're interested in.

But I digress. These 12 tributes will fight in Arena Two until exactly 6 of them are left standing, at which point they will be called to make their way to the Cornucopia, where they will be picked up and taken to the Capitol. Another round of interviews, and probably several nervous breakdowns, will take place, before the 6 surviving tributes will be put into Arena Three (presumably created by our good friend Kennza Teshine) to fight it out among themselves and with the surviving 6 from Arena One. So 12 total tributes will make it to Arena Three. The last tribute standing is, as usual, the Victor.

Don't get it? I don't blame you. PM either this profile, chickenwinglegolas, or FoalyWinsForever (That's me if anyone didn't know) with any questions.

Oh, and there won't be any sponsoring because everyone who's written one of these says it's way more trouble than it's worth. You'll just have to rely on flighty Capitol fancies… and my dubious mood swings. Heheheh.

So, the tributes. I kindly request that you read my Guide to Not Making Your Tribute Suck before submitting, Chapter Three in particular if you don't feel like reading the whole shebang.

A few OCs of mine may show up to fill any spots still vacant by Sunday. They won't win, of course, although they'll have the same chance as anyone to make it to the second round, because otherwise that wouldn't really be fair to anyone allied with them. I humbly request that no one submit a male for District Nine, although of course if you do and he actually has something to do with its (apparently debatable) industry, I will of course gladly boot my OC out.

I don't actually have any stock female characters, so I ask that if you're torn about whom to submit, try to help me fill my female roster first. District 2, 4, 8, 6, 9, and 3 only though, remember.

I will never actually decide to kill your character. Deaths will literally be drawn out of a hat. However, the more likely it is that your character would die at a given time, the more times your name will go in. (So if they're holed up pretty comfortably, probably only one or two times. If they're getting chased by the Careers… yeah, there could be some trouble there.)

Wow, this is a LONG author's note. I'm almost done, I promise. I just have to include the most important thing of all: the tribute form! (Dum dududummm!) And here it is:

**Name:**

**District:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**Personality:**

**Appearance:**

**Family/Friends:**

**Background:**

**Strengths/Weapons:**

**Weaknesses/Phobias:**

**Do you want me to write their reaping, train ride, stylist/chariot ride, training, or interview?**

**Romance?**

**Alliance?**

**Optional**

**Likes:**

**Dislikes:**

**Feelings Toward Capitol:**

**Reaping Clothes:**

**Chariot Clothes:**

**Interview Clothes:**

**Token:**

**Anything else I should know:**

Ooh, one more thing. Please DO NOT leave this information in a review. Just review with their name, District, age, and gender, and PM the rest. (But include that stuff in the PM too or I'll get seriously confused!) Because who doesn't like surprises? :D I can't wait.


	2. List One

Okay, so I sort of opened my big mouth, asking for female submissions, because… well, I got a whole lot of female submissions. I tried to choose the best, but I also had to take into account a combination of District requested and who submitted first, so just because I didn't pick you doesn't mean your tribute was bad; there were a few very good ones who I just couldn't fit, and I'm really sorry. But, here is the list as it now stands:

**District Two:**

Male: Jendra Reeseburn (My OC, so you can still submit here if you want.)

Female: Eliza Cabrera (Ella and Jakito)

**District Three:**

Male: Borge Limbell (Penelope Wendy Bing)

Female: Kendal Resista (Ice Tigers)

**District Four:**

Male: I've been told there's one on the way. I ask that he be at least 17 years old though, as I only have one tribute older than 16 at the moment. I also request that he be a Career, as the Career pack totals exactly one person at the moment.

Female: Tied Edison (Claratrix leChatham)

**District Six:**

Male: Rioro Rinzen (My OC, so you can submit here too)

Female: Emerianne Rivkin (cscorpia)

**District Eight:**

Male: Gante Damask (Lanraja)

Female: Ariele Nikko (amazingbliss24)

**District Nine:**

Male: Sascha Ire (My OC, but I'd prefer not to have to move him as his District is actually relevant to his character.)

Female: Diana Renald (katzsoa)- Do you mind if I make her be 17? I have too many 16s.

Just a note, chickenwinglegolas is searching for a D12 male for her fic, if anyone would like to help her out.

And for those of you reading my other fic, no, I am not forgetting about it, but updates on it might slow a bit, probably around once a week. I'm still not abandoning it, but this is going to be my main project for now.

I'll probably start with some reapings and everything either tomorrow, Saturday, or Sunday. I warn you, though, I'm a lot better at writing the arena than I am the pregames stuff, so I apologize in advance if I sort of rush through them.


	3. Tribute List

Wow, that was _fast!_ Sorry to everybody who didn't get to submit- I know there was at least one person who said they were going to, but the roster filled incredibly quickly. If I don't fail spectacularly at this, though, I might write another one afterwards. Anyway, here's the final list. I had to do a bit of messing with the Districts and ages as usual, so if I've done something completely unacceptable let me know and I'll try to work with you on it. Basically, I had several District where both tributes were the same age, and it was just kinda weird, plus there were a ton of 15 and 16 year olds.

**District Two**

Male: Jasper Johar, 18

Female: Eliza Cabrera, 16

**District Three**

Male: Borge Limbell, 14

Female: Kendal Resista, 15

**District Four**

Male: Verres Pulcher, 18

Female: Tied Edison, 18

**District Six**

Male: Merryn Circa, 13

Female: Emerianne Rivkin, 13

**District Eight**

Male: Jendra Reeseburn, 15

Female: Arielle Niko, 16

**District Nine**

Male: Sascha Ire, 16

Female: Diana Renald, 17

I'll get working on the reaping of everyone who asked me to write that. It might take me a few days though.


	4. D2 Reaping

**Well… let's give this a try, shall we? The Districts won't necessarily be in order, as I'm going chronologically, and even within that I haven't ironed out which pregame I'm writing for those of you who said you didn't care which. I'm going to get to everybody, just at… slightly random times. Oh, and nobody requested train rides, and I don't think I'm going to put any of the undecided people in there, because seriously, those are just boring and I don't feel like it. I'm also going to try not to write the same thing from the point of view of both District partners.**

**Jasper Johar, District 2**

District Two has become a very interesting place.

Not 'become,' really. It's been how it is for a hundred years. But apparently it wasn't always like this. So… divided. Because the Capitol doesn't trust us anymore, not even a century after the Second Rebellion. So now half the population lives comfortably, supported by their Peacekeeper salaries, enjoying a kind eye turned to them by the Capitol. Then there's the southern part of the District, where the quarriers live.

And the Capitol doesn't like them at all.

I guess it's not half and half. Not quite. Because there's also me. Us, I guess I should say. The kids training as Careers. But really, this year, it's just me. Or at least it'd better be.

As I walk into the crowded square, the crowd parting before me like I'm physically repelling them, I'm actually not particularly concerned that anyone will try to take my slot. The other kids in Career training know better, much better. And the quarry kids… well, why should they? I guess that's the one nice thing for them. People like me. Even though the Capitol distrusts them so much, they're freed from that grim specter that is the Hunger Games.

I can't imagine what it must be like for the other Districts. No Careers. The kids who are reaped actually having to go and fight and die, against people like me. I consider for a moment how the other Districts, the families of the reaped children, must feel about me.

A cold smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

I stride though the Eighteens section, bulling the kids who don't see me coming out of my way. The ones who _do_ see me coming move pretty fast of their own accord. It's gratifying, in a way, although it doesn't give me much confidence in the human race in general. I'd love to see one kid, just one, stand up to me.

I'd kill him, of course. But still, I'd respect him while I was doing it.

I shoulder a boy several inches taller than me out of my way. I'm usually a bit subtler than that. If I'd wanted, I could've slipped through the tight crowd without a single person knowing I'd arrived. But today, of all days, I find myself practically going out of my way to command their attention. Because, after all, I'm saving them from the Hunger Games, aren't I? Where would they be without me? In the arena, quite possibly. So yes, just for today, I _will_ have their attention. For the next several weeks, actually.

The mayor takes the stage, and I sneer, shaking my dark hair out of my eyes. This is a man I wouldn't mind sheathing a sword or three in. Because he, or so I've been told, was the one who condemned me to this life. When I was left on the steps of the orphanage with nothing but a blanket with my name on it, he decided that it would be more efficient for the District to send me to the Training Center instead.

Oh, I'm not saying I wish he hadn't. I'm made for this. I could never do anything but this. It's just that… what kind of a man makes the decision for a baby that they should train until adulthood, then quite possibly die?

Not to say I wouldn't've done the same thing, of course, because I would have. But I'm not Mayor, am I? That's why everyone hates me or fears me or both, isn't it?

The mayor rambles on, and I curse my inability to tune him out. Usually, I'm grateful for the flawless focus that the trainers quite literally beat into me, as it's saved me from many an ambush that they so frequently spring on me as 'practice.'

And again, I know I'd do the same in their place. Because here in District Two, we all do what we have to, and the ones that don't, die.

Part of my brain is still registering the mayor's speech, even though I've memorized it by now, after five previous reapings, but some of my focus switches to the mentors sitting on the stage. One of them is Vaila, who was one of my trainers. She's not that big, but she's one of few- okay, she's the _only_ person I'm even remotely intimidated by. I'm actually fairly sure I could beat her in a fair fight, but she never, ever fights fair, and she never, ever loses.

And she's taught me everything she knows.

I don't know the other mentor as well. I recall that his name is Andronicus, and he was the head trainer for this year's designated female tribute. My eyes leave the stage for a moment, and I cast an eye toward the Sixteens section, looking for Eliza. She's not hard to find. It's one of her biggest weaknesses, even though she doesn't seem to realize it. The girl has ridiculously light hair- I've never been able to tell whether it's just extremely light blonde or if she's going prematurely gray or something- and she hasn't cut it in years, it seems.

Which is excellent for me, because her flashiness will definitely earn us both sponsors and allies, and, when I'm done with her, killing her will be easy, because Vaila specifically trained me regarding how easily people with long hair can be caught or incapacitated.

Then I realize that Vaila would have had me locked up for a week if she'd heard how I was thinking. I can't underestimate this girl. I've never seen her train, although I do know she fights primarily with a mace, something else that Vaila made sure I could easily overcome. I wonder whether Eliza knows my fighting style. It's likely that my trainer was more careful than hers, so I doubt it, although of course if the traditional Career alliance holds she's going to find out anyway.

As I'm considering this, I watch the escort waddle over to the reaping balls. The man is a bit endearing, in a ridiculous sort of way. I think he may have gotten eyebrow extensions. Not that I'm judging him. They can extend anything they want, as long as they sponsor me. He sticks his hand into the girls' reaping ball. He can barely reach the single slip of paper floating on top of the rest, but he manages to pinch it between his thumb and forefinger after a few seconds of hopping up and down.

"Ira Mannitha!"

A few girls in the Eighteens section to my right laugh ironically, hitting Ira on the back. She chuckles, not even moving, because right on cue, Eliza calls, "I volunteer!" She makes her way to the stage. The kids in her section don't seem to be nearly as scared of her as the ones in mine are of me. Probably a good sign, but I have to remind myself again not to fall into the trap that Careers so often do, underestimating my opponents. No, I'll never turn my back on her. I'll never turn my back on _anyone._

Eliza climbs the steps onto the stage. The escort smiles at her and reaches into the boys' reaping ball.

"Feda Curban!"

For a moment, I'm tempted to wait a few seconds, and let the boy squirm. But if I did that, another Career might think I'd lost my nerve and volunteer instead. Well… no, that probably wouldn't happen. The other, younger boys in training would probably rather just let Feda there die and wait their own turn than risk taking my spot. But again, I think of Vaila, and realize that it's a bad idea all around.

"I volunteer," I say, my voice not quite a shout. It comes out menacingly low, and I'm pleased. There's a path cleared to the stage as if by magic, and I stride through it, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth, which I bite back and replace with my customary sneer. I arrive at the stage, step around the escort's enormous girth, and shake hands with Eliza. She doesn't try to crush my hand, nor I hers, like some of the less disciplined Careers have been known to do. There's no point in breaking any of your allies' bones before it's absolutely necessary. I do notice that she has a ring on, silver, with a pale sapphire in it, presumably her token. Silver. Huh. Who wears silver? Silver is for second best. Which is what she is. I glance down at my own token, a gold pin stuck through my shirt, with the Victor's Seal on it. Officially, there's really no such thing as the Seal, of course; District Two just sort of arbitrarily invented it to present to Victors. But it carries a lot of meaning, not to mention influence, within our District.

So yes, this pin is mine, but I want it to be _mine._

I study Eliza's face, trying to read her. It's not that easy. Most of what looks back at me is just the icy persona that I myself present to the world. Hers, though… no, there's something else in her eyes, something that may well be… uncertainty? Why, I do believe it is. Not about me, of course. No, she's not particularly intimidated by me. It's more… resigned, like she just never wanted this.

Well, I never wanted it either. It was given to me. But if she's not so sure, well, good. A little bit of hesitation is useful in an opponent.

The escort presents us to the crowd, who claps and cheers enthusiastically. Eliza gives them a grim smile and a nod.

I, of course, sneer.


	5. D3 Reaping

**Borge Limbell, District 3**

I really wish Delas wouldn't look at me like that. I mean, I don't blame her or anything, and I know she knows it's not my fault, but… still.

I look away as my mother darts behind me, then in front of me again, checking to make sure my tie is neat enough. I shift uncomfortably, and she tenses, grabbing my arm like I was about to fall. I can't blame herfor that, either.

"You're okay, Borge? I wish they didn't separate the children from their parents during the Reapings, what if something happened to you and we weren't able to help?" she babbles worriedly. Behind her, Delas stands silent, holding her brush, waiting patiently for my mother to braid her hair.

The rest of my family stands by the door. Really, the only people who are required to attend the Reaping are the kids in the Reaping pool, but my entire family goes. My parents, because they never stop worrying about me, although I don't know what they think they could do about it if I _did _have what they oh-so-subtly refer to as an "episode" during a Reaping. Uncle Tellman comes because he knows that my mother would worry herself to death without his less-paranoid reassurances. Lillibent, Mom and Tellman's mother, comes because she doesn't trust anyone to do anything right without her. If I ever got reaped, she'd probably follow me right into the arena, telling me that I was holding my spear the wrong way when I stabbed people, and complaining about her arthritis the whole time.

Dad glances at the clock. It's nice, having a clock. We never did before Dad's promotion. Of course, it's probably not entirely worth it, but still, it's reassuring that some good comes out of everything. Even though the only reason Dad got promoted was that he was just working extra-hard to pay my hospital bills. He was wasting his time, really; despite whatever it is the hospital did, they couldn't stop the blow I took to the head from making me fall asleep out of nowhere, forget half of what I'm told, spend the majority of my life zoned out, and, of course, because getting hit in the head by a piece of shrapnel thrown at me by an exploding compression pump wasn't enough, I also drool. Of course.

So now Mom, who doesn't seem to quite understand exactly which parts of my brain were and were not hurt by the flying whatever-it-was, hovers over me constantly. It would be tolerable, if a little annoying, if not for the fact that a side effect of it is that my parents seem to have forgotten that they have _two _children.

As Dad rushes us out the door, my stomach flips with guilt as I notice that Delas' hair is still tangled and undone. As usual, though, she doesn't complain.

We race to the Square, late as usual, since Mom walks so close behind me that I keep tripping to avoid stepping on her feet, and every time she makes me sit down for a moment to make sure I'm okay.

Honestly, I'm half-hoping I get reaped. Then I realize, Who am I kidding? I could return victorious from the Hunger Games and she'd _still_ think I'd kill myself by sitting up too fast.

Finally, we arrive. My parents hover around me. Tellman stares vaguely into the distance, while Lillibent sort of stamps in a circle, complaining about the heat, the crowded square, the knot on my tie, anything she can think of. Delas has slipped off, and I think I'm the only one who has noticed. Finally, I convince my parents that I have to get to the Fourteens' section before the mayor begins his speech, which it looks like he's about to. The other kids raise their eyebrows as I squeeze in late, but say nothing.

The mayor drones on. Every year, this is a struggle. Sophen, a boy from my class, looks at me sympathetically, giving me a small nod to assure me that he'll wake me up if I fall asleep or something, which I probably will. To my surprise, though, I manage to stay conscious until our escort, a typical, bubbly, green-haired woman named Reesa takes the stage. She giggles something unintelligible into the microphone, then flounces over to the girls' Reaping Ball.

A cold ball of fear coils in my stomach, and my fists clench. This is Delas' first Reaping. She hasn't taken any tesserae, but still, there's a world of difference between one entry and none.

As it turns out, my fears are unfounded, because Reesa chirps out a name I don't recognize.

"Kendal Resista!" she cries gleefully.

There is a murmur among the Fifteens, then a girl comes stumbling out of the knot of people. Her face is set determinedly, but I can tell she's shocked. She seems to find her balance and ascends the steps of the stage. A low sobbing can be heard from the parents, who are ringed around the border of the square.

For a moment, relief rises in my chest that it isn't Delas who has been chosen. This feeling is instantly crushed by guilt, for being happy about this poor girl's inevitable fate. Just by looking at her, I can tell that she's doomed. She's not emaciated, exactly, but there's almost no muscle on her. She looks like she could be pretty fast, maybe, but that's about it.

By now, Reesa has reached the boys' Reaping Ball. Her pale yellow arm scrabbles around in it for a moment, before her fingers close on a piece of paper and she yanks it out greedily.

There is the usual collective intake of breath as Reesa opens her mouth to announce the name.

Suddenly, I'm very tired. My eyes itch, and there's a sort of whooshing sound in my ears. I can't fall asleep in the middle of the Reaping. But, somehow, I do.

The next thing I know, there are hands around my upper arms and shoulders, holding me upright, and Sophen is shaking me frantically. What does it matter? The Reaping's over now, anyway. Just let me go back to sleep. But they won't. Sophen's saying something, and I force myself to listen.

"It's you," he's repeating. "You have to go up. I'm sorry, Borge, I'm really sorry."

My first thought is that my mother is going to have a heart attack. My next is that everyone is going to think that I passed out when my name was called. It's only after I stifle a curse at that realization that I realize, it's me. My name was drawn.

I am going to die.


	6. D8 Reaping

**Oh, yeah, something I forgot to tell you: erratic updates. They should get a little more frequent as of the end of the week after next though. Oh, and you know how I said I'd draw names out of a hat to kill people? Well… I changed my mind. I'd rather not do that, because it doesn't let me really plan ahead or come up with any kind of plot. But I promise you, if I kill you early, it's not because I hate you or your character! It's just because it made sense and was the best plot I could come up with. The funny thing about this chapter is, I think this is my least-favorite one so far, which is peculiar considering this is my own OC. Oh well.**

**Jendra Reeseburn, District 8**

I open the door to my room a crack and freeze. I heard something, I know I did. I move the door another millimeter, and I know I heard a scraping sound above me this time.

Well, good try, Mika. We'll see about that.

I take a step back into the hallway, then sprint at the door and dive through it as fast as I can. It flies open, I tumble through the doorway into my room, and the bucket of water that was balanced on top of the doorjamb topples to the ground. It spills water all over my floor, but it's worth it for the look on Mika's face as the door, which he was hiding behind, smacks him squarely on the forehead. He's just reaching up to rub it when I tackle him solidly, trapping him in a headlock.

It's not that we don't get along. We do, actually, much better than most brothers. It's just that Mika, who's thirteen, is a little too fond of doing stuff like this. My entire family has gotten into the habit of checking their shoes for worms in the morning before putting them on.

Even though I caught him, Mika's still laughing hysterically. I don't really know what he's got to laugh about seeing as I've pinned him, but that's pretty much what he does. All the time, actually. I remember when I had to share a room with him before Rae was born. He laughed all night, even in his sleep, until I wanted to suffocate him with a pillow or something. And he's still laughing, despite the fact that I must've pretty much strangled him at this point.

The reason for his mirth is made apparent to me as someone bends my arm behind my back and catches _me_ in a headlock. Mika wriggles away, still cackling his head off.

"Ready for the Reaping?" nineteen-year-old Rerkan asks, before letting me go. He's laughing as hard as Mika. I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling. Rerkan's the oldest, but he's definitely not the most mature. Sometimes, when I find that my chair has been glued to the ceiling or something and I turn to tackle Mika, it'll be Rerkan cracking up instead.

The three of us troop into the hallway, sidestepping as Rae darts by, waving his toy hovercraft and making engine noises. It's kind of funny considering that hovercrafts are silent, but if it makes him happy, sure.

Mom and Dad are waiting by the front door. Dad's staring out the window, but Mom raises an amused eyebrow at our rumpled appearances.

"Jendra, any particular reason that your shoe is soaking wet? I though you were just going to your room to grab your token," she asks. I realize that that's an excellent question. Apparently I didn't quite make it past the falling bucket in time. I also notice with dismay that I completely forgot my token, what with the surprise precipitation and the impromptu wrestling match and all. But Rerkan, Mika, and Rae are harassing each other and Dad is tapping his foot impatiently, and it's not like I'm really going to get Reaped anyway, so I don't say anything. Finally we make it out the front door, and we walk to the Square with only minimal incident, when Rae throws his hovercraft up a tree and I have to climb up and get it.

Finally the road widens into a huge plaza, bordered by shops and the houses above them. As usual, the stores have been hung with Capitol banners and posters. The President, Krasa, stares down at me from the bakery, dark brown eyes glaring from beneath short, black hair. Of course, it has to have neon blue streaks in it, because no one from the Capitol is even remotely capable of looking _normal._

Thankfully, only two members of our family are actually eligible for the Reaping pool: Mika and myself. It would have been nice to have it only be me, or better yet, none of us, but Mika only has two slips and I've only got five, since we haven't needed to take any tesserae. Mika leaves to talk to his enormous entourage of friends and admirers in the Thirteens, and I leave for my spectacular lack thereof in the Sixteens. Thankfully, one of the few friends I _do_ have, Jenner, is already there, so we exchange a few words while the Square fills up.

Eventually the mayor, an ancient, white-haired woman who's everybody's grandmother, takes the stage. Rhetoric isn't her strong point, through, and the crowd is sort of collectively spacing out when our escort, Twirra, bounds onstage. Her skin is dyed a neon orange that wakes us up pretty quickly.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she squeals, and I wince as her voice drills right to the center of my skull. "And what a great one it's going to be this year! I know for a fact we've already got some fantastic tributes, so let's see if we can keep that up here in District Eight!"

I can tell she doubts it. Our tributes are pretty much always doomed; we haven't had a Victor in so long that the only mentors we have must be at least seventy, like the ones on the stage now. I don't know their names, but they watch tiredly as Twirra draws a name from the girls.

I remember that Jenner's twin sisters are twelve this year. I can feel him tense beside me, and I do, too. I can't really think of anybody less deserving of a fate like that than Jenner's sisters.

"Ariele Nikko!" Twirra screeches, and again the sound of her voice makes me want to claw my ears out.

I realize that I recognize the name, or the surname at least. This girl must be Abela Nikko's twin. Ariele is a mirror image of her as she steps out of the pack of Sixteens. She's not that big, with sandy blonde hair to her chin and a few freckles, and her face is blank as she climbs to the stage. It's pretty unusual for District 8 tributes, who usually make a habit of breaking down and crying. Not that I blame them. I probably would.

Ariele reaches the stage. I can hear Abela sobbing off to my right. I feel horrible for the two of them. I've never really talked to them, but I know Abela's pretty much a musical genius. I've only heard her play one time, but she was amazing.

Onstage, Ariele stares out into the crowd. To my surprise, and everyone else's, she looks… determined? This is very strange, for tributes from our District. Her expression doesn't change when Twirra calls for volunteers. Everyone tries not to look at Abela, but we sort of do anyway. She looks frozen, tear tracks running down her face. She's not meeting her sister's eyes. I wish she would, because I'm fairly sure Ariele's trying to tell her not to volunteer.

It doesn't matter, really, because she doesn't.

Twirra looks quite pleased to have reaped the twin of a minor celebrity, and she's beaming as she marches over to the boys' Reaping Ball. I barely have time to hope for it not to be Mika, Jenner, or myself before she reads the name.

"Jendra Reeseburn!"

That accent. I can't _stand_ that accent…

I know my brain is stalling. I can't comprehend this. Am I really..?

Everyone is staring at me. Most of them are probably relieved. Not many people really know me, since I don't exactly go out of my way to be social.

I make myself move. There's nothing I can do about this now, so I may as well at least not look like a total fool while my brain processes the fact that I'm a dead man walking.

I can hear my family out in the crowd, and as I climb the steps to the stage, which feels remarkably like a gallows, I can see them too. I almost wish I hadn't. Mika, for once, is lost for words. There are silent tears running down his face, and there's a sort of empty ring around him where his friends backed away. Dad is supporting Mom, who's sort of slumped over, her eyes glazed. Rerkan looks utterly heartbroken. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if he'd been one year younger, he would've volunteered in a heartbeat. And Rae has caught on to what's going on. He's crying uncontrollably, but no one's paying attention to him.

And I feel guilty, somehow, for doing this to them. I feel like this is my fault, that I've failed somehow. And all I can do to make it better is to survive, which just isn't something I'm confident that I can do.


	7. D9 Reaping

**Ah, so another one of my OCs. A bit of a loony tune this time, though. And as for the fact that he's an orphan and thus I'm a total hypocrite… trust me, I'm fully aware; there's no need to call me out on it. ;)**

**Sascha Ire, District 9**

I lean against the rough trunk of the tree, watching as the square slowly fills. I've been here since dawn, observing silently as they built the stage and set up the pens for the kids in the reaping pool. They look like a maze of pale ropes against the light, dusty cobblestones from this angle. A few kids walk right underneath my branch, and I'm half-tempted to jump out of the tree and land right in front of them just for the hell of it, but I've barely moved when they're already past me and there's a Peacekeeper there instead. Probably not the best idea to jump out at him, even for me.

There's a small giggle above me. You've got to be kidding me. I glance up, and my jaw drops when I see Pell grinning down. He's only twelve, with spiky blond hair that sticks out all over the place despite Ms. Faden's constant noble battles to tame it. He may as well be my little brother, right down to the fact that he's recently decided to follow me everywhere. I would be okay with this, except for the fact that for me, "everywhere" involves several places that it's illegal for me to be, along with a countless number that fall under the more general heading of _stupid_ places for me to be.

I roll my eyes, but smile, and swing out of the tree. As soon as the branch slips from my grasp, it occurs to me that I never actually checked to see whether anybody was underneath the tree. As it turns out, someone is.

I twist wildly in midair and barely manage to miss squashing a little kid. Whoops. The kid can't be more than five or six, and he's gaping at me with big brown eyes. I try to smile at him, but it turns into a look of dismayed resignation when I hear Pell giggle behind me.

"Nice one," he snickers.

"Ah, shut up," I shoot back eloquently. The kid's still just sort if standing there and I'm not really sure what to do with him, since he's too young to just leave by himself. I turn to glance over my shoulder and see if there's anyone who looks like they could be his parent. Instead, I jump backwards and almost spit out a curse, because there's a girl standing right behind me. She can't be more than a few years older than me, and she's about my height, but she sure _seems _a lot taller, because she looks like she's considering eating my soul. I notice that there are two more kids who look exactly like the one I almost flattened, and conclude that they must be triplets, and she must be their older sister.

"And particular reason you just jumped out at Nicky?" she hisses ferociously, her hands balled into fists.

Whoa. I take a step back, raising my hands deferentially. "Sorry, accident. I didn't see him." I'm pretty surprised by her attitude. The longer I look at her, the more sure I am that I recognize her. I'm not sure what her name is, but I've definitely seen her around, and as far as I know she doesn't usually go around knocking people's blocks off.

She considers this for a moment, and cools down slightly. "Well, maybe you should look a little more carefully before you jump out of trees." Her voice is calmer now, although there's still a biting edge to it. I don't really mind; she's entitled to be a little snippy with me seeing as I almost squished her little brother. And anyway, that probably _would_ be a good general rule for me to follow, although I know as well as anyone that the day I did that would be the day the world ended. Mrs. Faden always said my failure to look before I leap would be the death of me, and she's probably right.

One of the little boys reaches out and tugs on the end of the girl's long brown braid, pointing off to the right. "Mommy's coming," he announces importantly. She turns to look in the direction he's pointing, and I slip off into the growing crowd. It probably would've been nicer of me to say goodbye, and I feel a little guilty for being so rude, but I really don't feel like talking to the girl's parents, who would invariably try to make polite conversation with me just because I was there. It's always sort of bugged me when people do that. Why bother? And anyway, I have to admit I sort of get a kick out of the idea of the girl turning around and seeing only the crowd. I've always been accused of having perhaps a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and I've never denied it.

I arrive at the pen for the Fifteens and duck under the rope, skirting a few packs of people and making my way to the back edge. I'm right on the edge of the Square, and the pen lines up perfectly with an alley. I stand on my toes, squinting over the heads of the parents who ring the Square, staring into the woods at the end of the alley. I may as well go out today, after the Reaping is over. I don't need to, really, but why not?

The mayor gives the speech and the mentors behind him tap their feet impatiently. One, a young man, actually checks his watch. Finally, the mayor is sort of shoved aside by a rail-thin Capitol man who's dyed a luminescent pink. I think he might actually be glowing. It's a bit alarming, and I wonder how many nuclear reactors he had to jump into to achieve the effect. The entire Reaping Ball lights up when he sticks his arm into it and pulls out a slip.

"Diana Renald!" he cries in a voice that reminds me strongly of a dying possum. There's a stir in the Seventeens, and to my surprise, the girl from before emerges and walks toward the stage. She's not crying, but she looks sort of… confused. I wish it hadn't been her. I wince as I think of her three little brothers and her mother. Now that I know her name, I find that I remember her father, too. Mrs. Faden told us that when she first converted the abandoned building into a sort of refuge for all of the kids who were alone in the District, Oric Renald had given her furniture from his shop to fill it for free. For all I know, this girl could have personally built my nightstand. She doesn't deserve to die.

The escort skips comically to the boys' Reaping Ball, and there's a collective hush.

"Aubren Kyrie!" he yelps, and this name I don't recognize at all, but whoever this boy is, I'm pretty sure his mother is right behind me. I wince again as she begins sobbing brokenheartedly. She looks like she's in her late thirties, and she's thin. There's a tiny girl clutching her hand. I turn in time to see Aubren walk by. He's skinny, too, and looks utterly shell-shocked. His hair sticks out like Pell's.

Ahhh, _damn._

Now the woman is pleading for someone, anyone, to volunteer, and I bite my lip. What would it really hurt if I died, I can't help thinking? Sure, there are a few kids that would miss me, but they'd get over it okay. It's not like I have any family. And yeah, I like hunting, but eventually I'm going to have to get a job in the tanning yards, which I'm not exactly looking forward to…

Part of my brain, of course, is screaming furiously, trying to beat these thoughts back. And I can hear that part facepalming furiously at my sheer idiocy as I yell, "I volunteer!"

The woman behind me falls silent from sheer shock, and some of the other Fifteens are looking at me like I'm completely insane, which I probably am. I shove my way through them and climb to the stage. The escort's expression is unreadable, blurred out by the glare emanating from his face. The mayor and one of the mentors look as astonished as everyone else, including me, and the other mentor is giving me an appraising look. Aubren looks me right in the eye and nods slowly, which I'm impressed by. The escort gestures for Diana and I to shake hands, and we do. She raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug, because I honestly have no idea how to answer her unspoken question. Because I can't say I _regret_ what I did, exactly, but it's only hitting me now that I actually am going to die, and that maybe I should have put just a bit more thought into my decision for once in my life. I think Mrs. Faden was absolutely right in her prediction about me, although she probably didn't intend the "death" part to be taken quite so literally. I wonder if Pell will ever forgive me for this.


	8. D2 Chariot

**Okay, chariot time! I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to write three of these and have them come out differently… which mean's somebody's going overboard their chariot. Or something. I don't know. Heheheh. Thanks for the reviews, guys!**

**Eliza Cabrera, District 2**

I run a hand through my hair, turning my head at an angle to the mirror while my stylist stands anxiously behind me. I think that this is the woman's first year in a Career District, and apparently no one told her what to expect. Actually, though, I'm pleased with her. I'd been dreading this part of the Games more than anything, expecting to be dressed as the typical extremely-promiscuous nurse, but instead she's fitted me in long black dress that almost resembles an evening gown. She's done something to my hair to bring out the silver tint in it, and there are silver stencils up and down my arms. I cock my head at my reflection.

"So does this have anything to do with District Two?" I ask politely, reasoning that there's no reason not to be civil, particularly if this woman can convince her friends to sponsor me. And really, it's not like she's done anything to me in the first place.

I slam the thought from my mind. I'm going to have to be very, _very_ mean to people whether they've done anything to me or not. And I'd thought that it wasn't going to be a problem. I mean, I've been training for this forever, and I want to win more than anything. But now that I've _seen _them…

I actually growl out loud in frustration. I _can't_ start second-guessing myself. I won't.

The stylist, a woman who could probably win a game of hide-and-seek by hiding behind a telephone pole, looks decidedly alarmed at the growl, but manages to squeak out an answer.

"It's supposed to represent healing," she says shakily.

Uh, right. Sure. But still, better this than the "sexy nurse" getup, I reason.

The stylist darts past me, casting an anxious look at me as she does so. I raise an eyebrow, but don't say anything, and she scurries off down the hallway. I follow as gracefully as I can in massive silver heels. I have pretty good balance, but even I can't manage these things as well as those Capitol women. But to each her own, I guess. They walk around in high heels, I kill people.

We arrive in the massive holding area for the chariots. It's total chaos. There are mentors, escorts, stylists, tributes, and who-knows-who-else running in every direction. I figure out which way is the front of the chariot line and head toward it. On the way, I notice that there only appear to be six chariots. Huh. So apparently we're being kept completely separate from the kids from the Districts that are going into Arena One.

When I arrive at my chariot at the front of the line, the rest of the Career kids are already camped out there. Jasper, of course, is leaning against the side of the chariot with his eyes closed. He's wearing a black suit that matches my dress, but he has golden designs stenciled on his skin instead of silver. I almost laugh out loud at his obsession with gold. Really. I mean, the boy's twice my size and probably a whole lot meaner than me, but I can't help getting a kick out of him, somehow. He's so… I don't know, _intense_ about everything. Of course, we're going into an arena to fight to the death, so I shouldn't really be blaming him, or laughing at him for that matter.

The District Four kids are there too. The girl is enormous, taller than Jasper, and she looks like she could probably beat him in an arm-wrestling match, but she's not really saying anything. She's wearing a dress, and I think it's supposed to look like a mermaid. Or maybe a fish. Or maybe a lizard? I honestly can't tell, but I'm thinking mermaid would make the most sense, because the boy is dressed as a merman. They've both got plastic tridents, although the boy actually looks like he has a clue what to do with it.

As soon as I arrive, the boy turns to me and shakes my hand. "Verres Pulcher," he says seriously, and I almost huff in annoyance. Not _another_ one. One Jasper is plenty, thanks.

"Eliza Cabrera," I reply resignedly. Nobody seems to know what to say after that. The girl from Four doesn't really look like she's paying attention, and Jasper still hasn't opened his eyes.

"So," Verres says, trying to make conversation, "Seen any other tributes we might want to… enlist?"

I consider it. Since the final six standing in this arena go on to the next one, it actually does make sense to recruit the two strongest tributes to our force. The thing is, it's a pretty tough call. Both of the Sixes are way too young to really do anything, and the rest of the tributes either seem completely useless or like the types who would rather jump off a cliff than ally with us. Actually, they seem pretty cliqued up already. The Threes are just sort of standing there, but they seem like they're working together. The girls from Eight and Nine seem to be negotiating, while their District partners are just sort of standing around. The kids from Six pretty much look terrified, but the two girls have started gesturing toward them now, and I'm pretty sure they're going to try to protect them. Huh. Districts Six, Eight, and Nine against Two and Four. Right. Good luck with that. I cast another glance toward the two from Three, but the boy looks terrified and the girl looks a little pissed off, so I think they're going to have to go it alone.

Finally, a Capitol person runs by and yells at us to get on our chariots. We collectively death-glare at the man, but do as we're told. Our chariot is at the front of the line. I've barely climbed on when it starts moving. I totter in my heels and am forced to grab Jasper's arm to keep from falling, and he shoots me the single most judgmental look I've ever seen in my life. I'm tempted to stick out my tongue, but we're already on the streets of the Capitol and somehow that just seems inadvisable.

I smile and wave gracefully at the crowd, while Jasper beside me demonstrates all the charisma of a particularly moody file cabinet. Our sleek black horses clop down the cobblestone road, and the chariot rocks beneath me. There's a certain, peculiar _reality_ to the moment, and I'm struck by it. I can sense the other tributes behind me, hear their horses. They know they're going to die. The other Careers know, too, and so does every citizen in the Capitol. Am I the only one who thinks there's something a little _wrong _with that?

I'm going to do what I have to. I _will_ kill. But only because if I hadn't, some other District Two girl would do it instead. I didn't want this, and I happen to know that Jasper didn't either, although he is a little more content with it than me. I wonder if the District Fours want to be here. I wonder if any Career in the history of the Games has actually wanted to do what they did.

And I answer my own question, as a few tributes spring to mind, then more and more. Yes, they did. Of course they did. It's just me, who let things turn out like this. I'm the only one who knows this is wrong and is going to kill anyway. So in a way, I'm really the worst person here, and I know it.

But what can I do? All I can do, for my own sake, is win, even though I know that out of all of us, I probably deserve it the least.

**IceTigers, sorry for sidetracking into the whole "nice Career" diatribe, that's just sort of the direction she spiraled off in. Although I do get a kick out of how she and Jasper interact.**


	9. D3 Chariot

**Kendal Resista, District 3**

I scratch my head as I look at myself in the mirror. I _think_ the color that I'd use to describe my eyeshadow right now would be… chartreuse? What exactly is chartreuse? Why would anybody in their right mind every want to have anything to do with the color chartreuse? All in all, it doesn't bode well.

Terri swoops in, brushing another layer of clear polish onto my fingers. I can't for the life of me decide whether I want to make friends with my prep team or make their lives as miserable as possible. I mean, I've spent my entire life trying to blow the Capitol up with my mind, but now I've actually met them, and they're not that bad, really. Stupid, shallow, useless, annoying, and self-centered, but not _evil._ They don't want me dead. It's more like the possibility of _not_ killing me has never occurred to them.

I settle on an attitude of relatively affable silence. Of course, my new stance is blown to bits when one of the prep team wheels out a vat of dark grey dye. First of all, dark grey? Who on earth wants dark grey hair? And secondly, my hair? I _love_ my hair, it's my one vanity. Overall, I sort of slide under the radar, looks-wise, but my hair, with its perfect wave and perfect blonde color, is just… perfect. And they sure as hell are _not_ dying it dark grey!

xxx

Evidently, they are in fact dying it dark grey. Alright then.

I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror. My skin looks paler than usual, and there's dark liner zipping through the neon shadow on my eyes. I look like an alien or something. I can't tell whether they're going for pretty, or intimidating, or what.

Seil comes toward me carrying my clothes, which are revealed to be black pants and a black tank top, which isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I wait for them to leave. They don't. I sigh and am starting to change into the clothes, when they stop me and swoop in with stencils and some kind of aerosol cans. Oh, fantastic. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching bemusedly as they cover me in lines of code, which are, of course, chartreuse. Finally, I am allowed to put the clothes on, which I do gratefully.

The final effect is interesting, to say the least. I look like a computer virus personified. I could swear that the neon yellow-green paint they've sprayed me with is glowing slightly, which is disconcerting to say the least. My now-dark-grey hair is pin straight, and my eyes are even creeping _me_ out. I can't really decide how I feel about the whole thing, and before I can, I'm yanked out the door and down the hall to the chariots.

Borge is waiting by the elevators with his stylist, who he keeps shooting slightly scared looks at and edging away slightly. I smile against my will. I feel terrible for Borge, really, but I'm happy to have him around. Sure, maybe I can't count on him to fight off the Careers or anything, but I honestly think I could count on him to try.

His chariot outfit is largely the same as mine. He managed to escape the lunatic eye makeup, but his usually-fluffy hair is spiked. I think they may have been trying to make him look scary or something, but because of the decidedly non-scary look on his face, he looks more like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

The elevator arrives, and we step onto it in silence. Borge looks like he wants to say something, if only to break the silence, but decides against it. After a few seconds, though, the stylists and prep teams start talking, which makes it a little less awkward. He and I just sort of lurk in our little corner of the elevator, and I think I may detect a bit of companionship as we judge them silently, although I'm probably being a little harsher about it than he is.

We're among the first to arrive to the chariot area. The Nines are there, and the Eight boy, but they're the only tributes so far. I consider talking to them. Borge definitely won't. I actually sort of like the idea of this Quell, since it means that in the first arena at least, you can actually trust your allies. Which means the second one will be even harder, assuming that I live that long, but still. I know that I should probably be doing some socializing, otherwise known as recruiting, because I'm not very fond of mine and Borge's chances if it's just the two of us.

"Move."

I jump as a deep voice growls behind me, and whirl to find myself staring up and the boy from Two standing in the entrance. He looks… bored. And it makes me pretty angry at him. He didn't even say it in a mean way, just sort of… _dismissive_. Like I don't matter at all. And I don't appreciate it.

I'm just opening my mouth to launch into the telling-off that would certainly get me killed, quite possibly on the spot if this boy wasn't one for rules, when Borge grabs my arm and yanks me off to the side. The boy from Two is still staring at me, but the one from Four appears behind him and casts him a warning look. Two gives him a cold look in return, and strides to the front of the chariot line. Four casts Borge and I an appraising look. My jaw drops in surprise. He's really considering recruiting us? I realize that he must have come to the same conclusion that we have, that since six people can survive, the most sensible thing for the tributes to do is to form two six-man alliances. Of course, that's just occurred to me when the boy raises an eyebrow and walks away.

Well. All right then.

"Maybe we should move before any more Careers come by," Borge points out quietly.

"Good point." For lack of anything better to do, we walk over to our chariot. We've just turned away from the door when the girl from Eight sprints past us, her face red, and runs over to the Nine chariot. They have an alliance, I guess. Great. Although if they've only got four members… hmm.

I realize guiltily that this would only leave the two thirteen-year-olds from Six alone, unless the Careers inexplicably decide to protect them. Actually, they might, just because they'd be so easy to kill in the next round…

Ugh. Okay.

It's too late, anyway. The girls from Eight and Nine are talking now, and pointing at the tiny kids from Six, who have just arrived. So they'll get protected by Eight and Nine instead, which means it's _us_ who's going to have to go it alone. Go figure. I cast another hopeful look at the Careers, but they're all turned away from me, greeting the girl from Two, who's just arrived. I scowl at precisely the moment that the girl turns to look at me, and she turns back before I can change my expression.

_Damn_ it. Borge and I it is, I guess. Although I'm not sure I really wanted to ally with the Careers, anyway. I mean, yes, I might survive a little longer, but, I don't know, it just didn't seem right. Although it would've been nice for Eight and Nine to at least _think_ about including us, but whatever.

The Capitol people start flipping out, yelling at us to get on our chariots. I scramble up, thankful for my sturdy boots as the Two chariot starts to move and the girl almost falls over, grabbing her District partner's arm.

District partner. Huh. I turn, and am greeted with an empty chariot. Oh, man. I whirl the other way. There he is, still on the ground, facing away from me. I rap the top of his fluffy grey head.

"Uh?" he asks, spinning. "Oh!" He just manages to grab the chariot as it starts to move, and he's barely hauled himself in when we emerge out into the Capitol, falling onto the floor like a landed fish. The Capitol people look confused when they see me standing alone in the chariot, and I hurriedly bend down and haul Borge to his feet. "Sorry," he mutters. "I wasn't paying attention."

"No problem," I reply, more sympathetic than ever. I remind myself to ask him if there's a particular reason for his… peculiarities, if he wants to tell me.

A Capitol boy screams my name. I turn, confused, and finally catch sight of him. He has gold hair- I don't mean blond, I mean _gold-_ and he's got to be three years older than me.

What the _hell?_

I do my level best not to listen during the President's speech, as there's a pretty decent chance I'd start swearing at her if I did. Finally she shuts up, and the chariots move again. The crowd of screaming citizens peters out, and we eventually pass from the bright city into the dim basement of the Training Center. Avoxes line the walls, waiting to take us to our rooms. I turn to talk to Borge, and sigh. He's snoring on the floor of the chariot. Well, at least one of us will be sleeping tonight.

**Hmm. I keep on changing my mind about the alliances. I'll get there eventually.**


	10. D6 Chariot

**Okay, so, IceTigers? I just noticed that you wanted me to write training and not chariot. Um. Whoops. Sorry about that. And, uh, sorry for misspelling her name, too. It was the autocorrect, I swear! :S**

**Emerianne Rivkin, District 6**

I watch interestedly as Pollyssn braids a red wire through my hair. She smiles at me in the mirror, and I grin back. I've already made friends with her and my prep team, because I figure after all that once I-

Nope. I won't think it.

Still won't. Lalala. Tumdedum.

"Just one minute," she says, and vanishes through a door.

I like her name. I feel a sort of understanding between us, people with long names. I bet she couldn't spell hers until she graduated secondary school, although at least "Polly" is a nice nickname. I guess I could go by a nickname too, but whenever someone shortens my name I just feel like they're talking to a completely different person from me.

Polly returns, carrying a dress. It's white, and looks like it would hit a little below my knee. It reminds me a little bit of a wedding dress, but I love it. I lean closer, and realize that the silver-speckled lace is woven of tiny wires. The fringe is made of wires, and wires form a lattice that laces up the back. Even the shoes, which are almost exactly like the ones I dance in, have long wires that weave up my leg.

I twirl happily in front of the mirror. The outfit is a little sparkly, I guess, but _I_ like it, and I don't care how the other tributes feel about it.

Polly adds a few dabs of makeup to my face, then straightens my dress, declares that I look beautiful, and leads me out the door. My stomach flips as we approach the elevator. I've been making up a thousand and one excuses not to ride it, but none spring to mind, and I'm inside with the door shut before I can say anything. I gulp as it drops, and I think that Polly notices my discomfort, because she starts making pleasant small talk. Before I know it, we're at the bottom, and I step gratefully off.

Of course, I'm almost run over by the girl from District Two running by. I sidestep quickly, and she passes. I don't think she even noticed me. Polly says she'll wait with me until Merryn gets here, but he shows up almost as soon as she says it. I wish he hadn't. I mean, I don't have anything against it, but I don't want Polly to leave. I'm trying to think of a way to ask her to stay without seeming absolutely pathetic, but once again, the elevator doors have closed before I can object.

I turn to Merryn. He's dressed in a white suit, accented with wires, like my dress is. He's wearing a black scarf, and I think it's the same one he had during the Reapings. I wonder if he'll try to take it into the Games? I know it's not his token; his token is that necklace with the little vial on it. He's looking at me expectantly, blue eyes magnified by his square black glasses. I'm opening my mouth to say something, although I'm not too sure what, when a girl's voice calls us.

"District Six!" I turn, and see the girl from District Nine. My mentor said to get any alliance I could, so I walk over, Merryn following me. We arrive at the District Nine chariot, and the girl smiles warmly. "Hi, I'm Diana. What are your names?"

"I'm Emerianne," I say, making my voice as friendly as I can. I'm not sure whether I should introduce Merryn or let him introduce himself, but he doesn't say anything, so I add, "And this is Merryn."

"Nice to meet you," Diana replies. I decide that I like her. I can tell she's going out of her way to be nice, but I appreciate that. She reminds me of Polly.

I study the rest of what seems to be an alliance. The boys, Eight and Nine, look friendly enough. They're both much taller than me, but they're not that big. The Nine boy has brown hair like Diana, although his is a little lighter. It's combed down, but he keeps messing with it, and half of it is standing straight up now. He looks happy enough, but I can tell he's paying very close attention. The one from Eight is a little taller, but he's pretty slim, too. His skin is sort of caramel-colored, and he has dark brown hair. I can't see his eyes, because he's standing half-behind Diana and looking down. Then there's the girl from Eight. She looks sort of angry, and I can't tell who it's directed at. She's standing apart from the group slightly, and I'm not sure whether she's even part of the alliance.

"We were wondering if you'd like to ally with us," Diana continues, "Since six people can win and all. Well, win this round at least.

I turn to Merryn. "Okay with you?" I ask. I know it's okay with _me_. I'm pretty sure I can trust these people. They don't look that dangerous compared to the Careers, but still, they're a whole lot scarier than I am.

"Sure," Merryn says quietly. I nod at Diana, and she smiles warmly. The girl from Eight bites her lip. I don't have time to wonder what's happening before the attendants tell use to get on our chariots. Merryn and I scuttle past the Eight chariot, ducking around the quiet pair. The Capitol people have to run and get stepstools to get us into the chariot. Still, it's not as bad as some of the others. Almost every chariot but ours is having some sort of trouble. The Two girl almost falls out, while the Three boy somehow manages not to notice that the chariots are leaving and barely dives into his in time. The Four girl fiddles with her dress, accidentally ripping a scale off of it, and her partner tells her off impatiently. Behind us, I can hear the Eights hissing furiously at each other, which is weird, since they didn't talk at all before. It's hard to tell whether they're angry or just trying to be quiet. I wonder what's going on, but our chariot is pulled out into the Capitol, and I forget about it instantly.

The Capitol is _amazing._ I vaguely perceive the other tributes waving and blowing kisses at the citizens, but I'm far too busy just looking around to be bothered with that, and it's not like they're exactly going to be falling over themselves to sponsor me, anyway. The buildings soar impossibly high, but they're lit so brightly than I can see all the way to the top. Somehow, there's a nighttime atmosphere, but it's as bright as day. Almost none of the light is white. The buildings, the streetlights, the automobiles, even the citizens themselves glow every color of the rainbow, and I'm completely overawed.

We pull into the city circle, and the President starts her speech, but I'm still not paying attention. Now, I begin to look at the people themselves. Some are impossibly beautiful, some have been operated on to the point of being horrifying, and some are just plain weird. They're almost all screaming at the top of their lungs, and I begin to feel a bit unnerved. They're... _wild. _I'm starting to get decidedly creeped out, and to my surprise, Merryn seems to catch on to this.

"Don't worry," he says quietly. It's not much, but it helps. Then, of course, he has to ruin it. "They're not yelling to us. They don't care about us."

... Well, I appreciate the effort.

I must have gotten a slightly sardonic look on my face, because he shrugs, adding, "What? It's true." And it is. Now that I'm paying attention, not one of the baying sea of citizens is looking at me. I know that this is a bad thing, because it means we'll have few sponsors, if any, but it comes as a relief. I'm half-expecting them to swarm forward and crush the chariots, and slipping underneath their attention doesn't seem like such a bad thing. I stare quietly ahead as the President finishes her speech and during the ride to the Training Center. When we pull into the relative quiet of its basement, I feel strangely drained, and allow our mentors to walk me to my room without a word. I feel like I've realized something big, but I don't know what.

**Oh, and I'll be updating Tribute of District Thirteen within the next few days, for those of you who are following that, sorry for neglecting it. :( And sorry for doing all of the same thing at the same time. I realize that might make it a little boring, but I need to keep it in rough chronological order for my own sake or I'd completely lose track of what was going on. One more chariot ride (District 9 Female) then to Training!**

**Edit: Okay, since I accidentally wrote the chariot ride of someone I was supposed to do training for (D3F,) I'm switching D9F to training, which means that she won't be for another few chapters, sorry. But it also means we'll be hearing from the mysterious D4F, Tied Edison, next chapter!**

**Oh, and for some reason the last few lines of this didn't get uploaded, sorry about that. Hopefully that's fixed now.**


	11. D4 Training

**Ooh, this is going to be a tricky one. Wish me luck.**

**Tied Edison, District 4**

"Do you use any weapons at all?" Verres asks behind me. He's trying hard to be patient, but I can tell that he's exasperated with me. I think he was expecting a Career to volunteer as his District partner, not a girl out of the boatyards.

I think about it. Weapons? Not really. Although…

I turn abruptly and stride off to a booth that looks like it's just full of completely random weapons. I pick up a few, hefting them. Verres takes a deep breath when he catches up to me. "So, do you see anything you like?" I can hear the irritation in his voice. I don't get why he bothers. I mean, if he doesn't want me around, why is he going so far out of his way to make sure I'm part of the Career alliance? I decide to ask him.

"Because you're from District Four!" he exclaims agitatedly, practically waving his arms around. "District Four is _always_ part of the Career alliance!"

Well, that makes no sense at all to me. But still, I _do _want to be part of the alliance, so I won't point out the fact that he's being kind of irrational about this.

My hand falls on a massive hammer. Hmm. I wrap my huge, scarred, callused hands around the leather-bound handle, and whirl, swinging it. Verres ducks with a yelp, and the war hammer whooshes through the air just above his short brown hair. Whoops.

A guilty look steals over my face as he straightens. There's no way that he's going to put up with me after I just almost accidentally bashed his skull in before the Games even started. But no, amazingly, he _still_ just looks vaguely annoyed.

"Okay," he snaps, "War hammer it is. We're going to need to work on your aim, though."

"Don't _you_ have anything you need to be training with?" I ask.

"I've been training for years. Three more days will do you much more good than it will me."

Well, that's probably true. Both Verres and the Capitol man attending the weapons booth try to show me how to use the war hammer, but Verres is barely strong enough to lift it, let alone swing it, and the Capitol man can't even get the handle off the ground, so they just yell advice at me instead. I don't really listen. I probably should, I guess, but I'm doing fine on my own.

I bash a dummy's skull in, picturing the dummy as another tribute. I recoil from the thought. I don't want to do that. That's… gross. And I don't want anyone doing that to me, either. But I have to win, for Davy and Sean. They _have_ to finish school, unlike me. And as far as I can see, this is the only way for that to happen.

I start fantasizing about what could be done with the Victor's winnings. Maybe Eelier could go back to school. Maybe she could even go to college! Maybe we could order prosthetics for Mom and Dad, to fix their injuries from the boating accident. Maybe the Capitol could fix them completely! I know without a doubt that volunteering was the right thing to do.

"Tied!" Verres hollers, bringing me back to Earth. "Could you _please_ just…" He trails off.

"Sorry," I mutter. I'm not really sure what to do now. I swing the hammer halfheartedly, but it seems a little awkward now. Verres' eyes are closed, with one hand on his temple, and the Capitol man is looking at the floor, so I elect to wander off and explore the rest of the gymnasium.

The District Twos, Jasper and Eliza, are at the sword station. I consider joining them. Eliza's nice to me, but Jasper's sort of scary, and besides there's no way I can learn to swing a sword in three days, anyway. I meander over to a random booth, and discover it to be knot tying. If there's one thing I'm good at, this is it. I know I'm sort of wasting my time, but I pick up a piece of rope and tie it in four different knots in a row.

"Wow," says a small voice beside me. I turn, and have to look down to see the source. It's a tiny boy in square glasses. I think he's from Six.

"Uh, hi," I say, not really sure what to do.

He blinks. "Hi."

Neither of us seems to know what to say after that. I look over my shoulder, and see the Nines, the Eight boy, and the Six girl staring at us. They don't look hostile, exactly, but suspicious. I think they're trying to figure out whether I'm a Career or not. I know I shouldn't really be at this station anyway, so I turn without another word and drift off. By now, the Twos have moved on to maces, and I'm not sure where Verres went. The archery station is empty, so I go there, but I only make a mess of things, breaking bows and arrows and almost shooting the attendant, so I leave after a few minutes.

The next day goes pretty much the same way. Verres tries to make the four kids from Two and Four stay together, but the Two boy clearly doesn't want me around, and I'm not all that good at most of the stations that we go to, anyway. I learn to throw a spear reasonably well, and Verres talks me into trying out an enormous broadsword, which I turn out to be fairly good with, but I'm hopeless with knives and archery.

Finally, the day of our private session with the Gamemakers arrives. Verres seems to have given up on being my personal coach, and I watch as the Capitol attendants appear and call him into the gymnasium. The Twos are already gone, so I can't talk to Eliza. I sit silently. I'm the only tribute from a Career District left, and the rest of the tributes keep shooting me glances from the corner of their eyes. I'm getting a little uncomfortable with it, so I'm glad when they call for me.

The Gamemakers raise their eyebrows when I enter the gym, and I know why. I'm big, taller and stronger than any of them, but I don't look like a Career and everybody knows it. I scowl as menacingly as I can and walk over to the miscellaneous weapons booth, rooting through the pile of metal until I find the massive hammer from before. I wrench it out of the tangle and raise it over my head, walking over to the line of dummies. The Gamemakers' eyes widen slightly, and I grin a little bit, before bringing the hammer down on one of the dummies as hard as I can. The lump of rubber becomes completely unrecognizable as a human being. I mash a few more dummies, then grab the huge sword Verres made me practice with earlier, and chop some of the mannequins in half.

I consider tying some knots, since I'm pretty much out of weapons, but I decide that that would be really boring to end with, and besides, they probably know already that I can tie knots.

I stand for a moment, waiting for the Gamemakers to say anything. Once it's apparent that I'm not going to do anything else, one of them says, "You are dismissed."

**Okay, D9F next, for real this time. Sorry about that, katszoa. ;)**


	12. D9 Training

**Phew, okay, I'm back, sorry about that. And yes, I'm working on ToDT.**

**Diana Renald, District 9**

I walk into the gymnasium on the second day of training, Sascha behind me. There are only a few tributes already here, but the head trainer gestures that we can begin.

I can see Merryn with the District Four girl at the knot-tying station. My stomach twists at the sight. It's not that I don't like her; she seems nice enough, if a little rough around the edges. It's just that there's no way that the rest of the Careers will take care of Merryn, and I don't think they'd react well to the girl leaving their pack, either. One way or the other, their friendship can only end badly. My problem is solved when Merryn looks up and sees us. He says something to the girl, Tied, and walks over. Emerianne wanders over too, turning to sweetly thank the trainer at the edible plants station.

This isn't _fair_. I have to try my hardest to return home, I know. I refuse to make my little brothers watch me die. But for me to live, the rest of my alliance can't, and I just don't know if I can stand the thought. Honestly, I have no idea how I myself am going to survive. I can't use any weapons. I'm not very big. I can't even imagine killing anyone. How in the world am I supposed to protect my entire alliance?

Because somehow, I _do_ feel like it's me protecting them. Merryn and Emerianne, of course, are tiny and shy don't know what to do. Sascha should be able to take care of himself, really, but I sort of feel like he'll jump off a cliff or something the moment I turn my back on him. Then there's Jendra. He's bigger than me, too, but just as quiet as the Sixes, and I think that secretly he's more scared than any of us. So, somehow, I ended up as the unofficial leader of our little group, which is exceedingly strange considering that I'm the last person I myself would have picked for something like this. Leader by default. Great.

"So. Where to?" I ask, trying out the role. The Sixes and Jendra, of course, don't say anything.

"Archery!" Sascha grins, to absolutely no one's surprise.

"I think the point of training is to learn _new_ skills," Jendra points out, smiling slightly.

Sascha's grin only widens. "I know. Archery _is_ new, for you guys. And I'll work on my watching-you-shoot-without-laughing skill, which is certainly a new one for me. Or maybe I'll try out that big hammer the District Four girl had yesterday."

I'm trying to come up with some kind of a comeback, but Emerianne beats me to it. "Good plan! And I'll run over to the medical plants station, so I'll be able to help when you drop it on your foot!"

There's a beat of silence, then Jendra and I start cackling madly at her chirpy sarcasm. Sascha looks indignant, and Merryn just raises an eyebrow at him, which makes the rest of us laugh harder.

"Archery it is," I finally declare. Sascha's just starting to go into his victory dance when I cut him off. "Not you. You… I don't know, go learn swordplay or something."

He scowls, then thinks about it for a second. "But… ooh. Heh. You know what, I think I will!" He scampers off, and I sigh in dismay when I notice that the sword station is occupied by two Careers. Well, he's going to have to handle it himself.

"So… archery?" Jendra asks, grinning. I roll my eyes, but smile back.

Archery doesn't go quite as well as I'd hoped. Neither of the Sixes are strong enough to pull the bow tightly enough to really accomplish anything. Jendra's stronger than he looks, and he's got decent aim, but it takes him a long time to actually nock the arrow to the string and aim. I can fire much more quickly, but my aim isn't much better than average.

Well, maybe Sascha's actually good for something after all.

We drift over to the knife station next door after a while. Jendra and I try throwing them, but quickly discover that knife throwing is much harder than it looks. Merryn, meanwhile, picks up a long dagger, walks over to a dummy, and drives the knife into it. Only a few inches of the blade actually pierce the dummy's flesh. Merryn looks up and shrugs slightly. "It's better than nothing," he says.

I nod in response. What do you say to something like that? Merryn is a nice kid, but he's simply incapable of fighting, and he knows it.

The instructor sets Jendra and I against each other in a mock knife fight. We slash halfheartedly at each other, but we're both too afraid of accidentally hurting the other to really try our best. We've paused for a breather when something silvery flies through the air behind Jendra's head, and buries itself up to the hilt in a dummy's heart. I turn slowly, and see Emerianne standing in the direction that the knife came from.

"Did… you throw that?" I gasp. Jendra realizes what's going on. I almost laugh as I see him mentally charting the knife's trajectory, glancing from Emerianne to the dummy that it hit. His jaw drops and he rubs the back of his head unconsciously, realizing that it missed him by inches.

Emerianne looks a little uncomfortable with our attention suddenly on her. "I've practiced before," she shrugs.

"Um… any particular reason _why?_" Merryn asks.

"I saw a dancer do it once," she replies.

So. Emerianne throws knives. Merryn's practically a genius. Sascha can shoot. Jendra can fight hand-to-hand. What am _I_ good for?

Suddenly, the gap in our little group's collective abilities dawns on me.

"Survival, guys," I say. "I think we've got fighting pretty well covered. Emerianne, you already did edible plants, right? Try and learn the medical ones. You, too, Merryn. Jendra, you can come do knots and snares with me." I'm surprised by the efficiency with which I rap out orders, and the willingness with which they're followed. Maybe I _am_ good for something in this alliance.

I get another confidence boost at the snare station. I discover quickly that I have a knack for tying knots, and can easily replicate the snares that the trainer shows me.

I grin wickedly as a completely new one occurs to me. Jendra watches curiously from the side as I knot ropes and twine together, slinging pieces over the metal bar overhead meant to stand in for a tree limb. I'm just stepping back to enjoy my handiwork when I hear a whoop behind me. I barely manage to sidestep in time when Sascha goes flying past me. He skids right through the middle of my snare, which works perfectly, jerking him upside down by his ankle.

My jaw drops in surprise, and I spin, looking behind me. Jendra is trying to look innocent, but he only manages it for about three seconds before he cracks up. I spin back to Sascha. I'm afraid he'll be furious, but he's laughing harder than Jendra, still dangling upside-down.

I sigh, struggling not to start snickering. Jendra and Sascha have been having some kind of a war the entire time we've been in the Capitol. Sascha, I'm not at all surprised at. A prank war is exactly his style. Jendra, on the other hand… really, he _had_ to chuck Sascha right in the middle of _my_ trap? There were plenty of other places he could have thrown him. Like into the wall, for example. Maybe it would knock some sense into him. "Thank you, Captain Maturity, for ruining almost three full minutes of very hard work," I say to Jendra severely, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

He salutes, equally serious. "No problem, Commander Sarcasm."

I laugh, nudging a wire with my foot. Sascha crashes to the ground with a spectacular curse.

Jendra blinks, turning to him. "You just made that one up, didn't you?" he asks bemusedly.

Sascha hauls himself upright, grinning ruefully. "Just for you, buddy."

Well, at least we all get along… I think?

**Okay, so my OCs are serving zero purpose other than comic relief. Don't worry, horrible things will happen to them eventually. XD Oh, and Sascha and Jendra are friends having a prank war, not enemies trying to kill each other, for just in case I gave the wrong impression there.**


	13. D4 Interviews

**Again, sorry for the slight pause. I've been working on a reeeeaally long chapter of my other story. Once I finish that and the epilogue, though, I think you'll notice the update rate of this fic improving greatly. :D Oh, and I stole the interviewer's name from my own story, on the valid basis of "screw it."**

**Verres Pulcher, District 4**

The Capitol crowd roars as we walk out of the passageway and into the light. We file forward into the front row of seats, and I sidestep and barely manage to avoid tripping as Tied stops suddenly yet again. She mumbles an apology, although it's not really her fault. She's struggling to avoid tripping over the District 3 boy, who is in turn struggling not to trip over his District partner, who is doing her level best to stay as far away from Jasper Johar as is physically possible. I don't blame her, really, but it's sort of funny. Poor girl; she's going to have to sit next to him during the interviews whether she likes it or not.

I crane my neck, peering over Tied's shoulder. The funny thing is, I'm not short; she's just that tall. I think that I see a flash of white-blonde hair descending into another passageway on the other side of the stage. I wonder if that was one of the other tributes, just finishing their interviews?

We sit down one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the District 3 girl, Kendal, I think, scooting as far to the left as she can in her chair. I notice that her District partner's eyes are closed. Is he trying to relax or something? Then he falls to the side, toward her, snoring.

Huh. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Kendal is knocked to the right, bumping against Jasper's shoulder. He turns slowly.

I'm pretty sure he's enjoying this.

Jasper sneers. "What?" he asks, his voice quiet and menacing. Kendal stares at him silently, her eyes wide. I roll my eyes at Jasper's theatrics. Ever since she stood up to him at the chariots- and she didn't even say anything, just looked like she might, really- Jasper has decided that he wants her dead. Well, fine; we're Careers, that's what we do. I'm just a little worried about how he's going to go about _doing_ it. It's always sort of bothered me when there are Careers like that. We're all here to win, yes, but what's the point of being cruel? A spear through the heart does the job perfectly well, and besides, that's not what we've trained for.

I decide it's not worth it to interfere, though. Not yet. If he does something I really can't stand for, fine, but there's no point in making an enemy before we even get into the Games. I'm not scared of him, exactly, but why should I turn one of the three people who will actually have an opportunity to stab me in the back against me? There's no point. Except for maybe saving Whatserface there a lot of stress, but that's not quite good enough of a point for me to risk my own neck.

Fulvia DeKernski, the purple-haired interviewer, has been talking this entire time. It may have been a good idea for me to pay attention, but it doesn't really matter. I'm using the same angle the District Four boys always have; I insisted on it, actually. Competent, a valid chance at being Victor, but slightly less evil than the District Ones and Twos. Really, I'm going to have to depend on Jasper to provide the contrast, since the Ones aren't here and I can't really see Eliza coming off as ruthless and cruel. Hopefully the Ones did earlier, although I have no way of knowing.

Finally, Eliza is called onstage, and the interviews begin. To my delight, "ruthless and cruel" seems to be exactly the angle that she's going for. She's not entirely convincing, although I'm sure the Capitol audience was completely fooled. At one point, the interviewer asks her about her mother, and her face goes completely blank. She glares at Fulvia until the woman stutters out another question, and I'm quite sure the glare was genuine.

Jasper is next. He's remarkably predictable. His interview would have been terrifying, if not for the fact that I was tempted to roll my eyes and tap my feet through each answer.

Kendal seems to have gotten a hold of herself. She smiles and laughs, and it's difficult to tell which side is the real one; is she trying to make the Careers underestimate her, or is she genuinely scared of Jasper and she's putting on a show now? Her District partner is fairly dull, except for one memorable moment when he falls asleep, again, and drools on the interviewer.

Next, it's Tied's turn. I wince as she clambers up the steps, looking decidedly uncomfortable in her blue dress. I have no idea why her stylists insist on making her wear dresses. Femininity, I suppose, is probably the goal. Tied's a nice person, but they'd have it easier trying to make a dead shark look feminine. To my surprise, her interview goes remarkably well. She goes for a completely different angle, acting friendly and gentle, and talking about her little brothers back home. She mentions that her older sister is caring for them, because her parents were injured in a boating accident, and she volunteered so that they could go to school. I realize with a start that I never knew that. I knew she wasn't a Career, but I also knew she volunteered, and I never bothered to wonder why. It makes me think of what I've left behind. My little sisters, Pictrix and Catilina. I know they're watching, and I hope they're not scared.

Tied's interview ends, and I ascend the steps, taking a seat in the chair. It's a little too big even for me, and I swear they do that on purpose.

"So, Verres," the interviewer jumps right in, "That was an impressive training score. Ten! One of only two given among the tributes of this arena!" The other, of course, was Jasper. Her phrasing gives me pause for thought, though; she makes it sound like at least one tribute from the other arena got a ten, too. It would make sense, I suppose; District One is in there after all.

"I… yes?" I reply. What was I supposed to say to that? It wasn't even a question! She looks a little annoyed, which is hardly fair, because that was entirely her fault.

"So tell us about District Four," she attempts again.

"It's, um, nice," I say, then blank out completely. What's going _on?_ Careers' interviews are supposed to go well! Heck, Tied's interview went better than mine is! "Living on the ocean, I mean. Very… pretty. And you can go swimming, and, uh…" I sigh mentally. All that training for the Games, and I turn out to have stage fright. Go figure.

Now Fulvia looks thoroughly miffed. I think she was counting on Two and Four giving her an easy job. "What's your family like, then?" she asks, a little impatiently.

"Well, there are my sisters, Pictrix and Catilina, and my parents, Galeo and Ocella." This, at least, I should be able to talk about. Right? "And they're why I have to get home. Them and Merenda, of course."

Fulvia smiles, smelling gossip. "Merenda? And who might that be?"

I smile. I might be exaggerating it a bit, but at least I'm talking now. "She's my girlfriend."

"And what's she like?"

I hesitate. This is going to be a difficult question to answer without coming off as a total lovesick puppy. "Fantastic," I say. "She's a wonderful woman." I leave out the fact that I'm going to propose to her as soon as I get home. It would probably get me sponsors, but Merenda isn't the type who would like having it announced all over Panem before she actually got to answer me. Although I'm pretty sure she'll say yes. At least I hope so.

**Abrupt ending, sorry, but interviews are freaking _hard!_**


	14. D6 Interviews

**Hmm, a bit of a wait this time too, sorry about that. But guess what? I FINALLY finished typing the final-ish chapter of ToDT! I'm getting if proofread right now, but that should be up within a few days. That also means that I'll have more time to spend on this! One more interview after this, and then the Games. Well, maybe. It sort of depends on how CWL is doing; if she's not ready I might do a rooftop chapter or a Gamemaker's POV or something to kill time. Or I might just start anyway. ;)**

**Anyway.**

**Merryn Circa, District 6**

Harmless. That is the angle that my mentor and escort have decided on for me. It's hardly an angle. Who, exactly, do they think I would be able to harm? Really, the only person I could hope to do any damage to is Emerianne, and I don't intend to do that.

Emerianne is doing her interview right now. Her angle is similar to mine: sweet. She plays it well, smiling shyly at the interview and telling endearing anecdotes about the exploits of her huge family back home. That's what I don't understand. The Capitol people… are they just stupid? I don't think that's it. They're as intelligent as any of us, or at least some of them are. Evil, then? But no. It's not out of cruelty that they want to see us torn to shreds. They have no quarrel with us, not really. I think it's just the fact that they live so easily. They need a thrill, so they get one, vicariously. The Hunger Games- to them, that's exactly what they are, games. Because they don't see us as people, I know that for sure. But I don't blame them, because I don't really see them as people, either. We're just too different.

"Did he really?" Fulvia is asking, clearly delighted by whatever Emerianne has been saying.

"Oh yes," Emerianne giggles. "Stefo can't climb trees to save his life, but he knew that Yashfin would be miserable without his pacifier- I think he was only a month or two old at that point- so he climbed it anyway. Of course, I didn't know that, so when I walked under the tree to go to the shed, he fell out, right on my head."

I smile slightly, remembering a certain gratuitously embellished story that Sascha had told me about his Reaping while Diana had stood by, rolling her eyes, but not contradicting him.

"Oh dear," Fulvia laughs. "Was he alright?"

"Oh, yes," Emerianne replies, straight-faced, "But he didn't get the pacifier, so we had to suffer through Yashfin crying for five straight minutes while _I_ climbed the tree instead. We never did find out how James managed to get it up there in the first place."

Clearly, Emerianne has drawn the audience's sympathies, and, by extension, their sponsoring money. I don't begrudge it to her, not at all. It might, however, cause me some serious problems. Usually, the young kids, the ones with no chance at all, survive for a while on the sponsors' pity alone. The thing is, now Emerianne has drawn that pity, leaving me with… what? I know that I have no chance at survival. I regret joining the alliance, to some degree. Yes, it will keep me alive longer than I would have lasted on my own, but at what cost? I still won't win. Is it worth watching people who I consider to be my friends die, just so that I can survive a few days longer?

I convince myself that maybe, just maybe, I'm more of a help than a hindrance to them. I'm smart; I know this for a fact. I have at least a theoretical knowledge of plants and survival, and I'm reasonably confident in my abilities to make medicines out of plants, so long as I know enough about the plants themselves. Diana has stepped up as our leader, which, I'm grateful for, but maybe I can be a sort of advisor to her.

"Merryn Circa!" a voice announces, and I start. I hadn't even heard Emerianne's buzzer go off. I rise to my feet sharply, tucking my black scarf securely about my neck. No need to give the interviewer anything _interesting_ to ask me about, and besides, if she inquired about my scar, I'm not sure what I should tell her. I think that most of the other tributes would probably be unsurprised to find out that I burned myself playing with chemicals, but why give away my one true talent? Besides, I don't particularly like people seeing it, anyway.

I walk up the stairs, hypersensitive of my every movement. I'm not particularly clumsy, but with my luck I would trip and fall flat on my face at this precise moment. I pass Emerianne on her way down, and she shoots me a reassuring smile. I smile back weakly, ascending onto the stage. I'm forced to jump to get into the interviewee's chair. How humiliating.

"It's wonderful to get to speak with you, Merryn!" Fulvia beams at me. Up close, I can see that her makeup is dripping down her face under the hot spotlights.

"It's, uh, wonderful to be here," I reply, even though this is quite possibly the biggest lie I've told in my life.

"So, I've been speaking with my friends the Gamemakers, and they tell me that you've managed to score yourself an alliance. Any comment on that?"

Well, my first thought is that if we had been trying to keep our alliance a secret, she would have just blown it. Then again, I suppose we _haven't_ exactly been secretive about it, so she probably assumed it wouldn't really affect anything.

I shrug noncommittally. "I'm happy to be part of it. I think that it probably doubles my chances." I leave out that my chances were exactly zero in the first place.

Fulvia flaps her hands agitatedly. "No, no, no, we _know_ that; why else would you join an alliance?" She laughs merrily. "I want to know how you get along. I'm told Diana is the leader? How do you feel about that? Is there any tension between Jendra and Diana? What about you and Emerianne? And why on Earth did Jendra and Diana catch Sascha up in a snare during training?"

I can't help laughing at the last question. "Honestly, I have no idea, but I find it much more likely that he ran straight into it. Our group gets along just fine. Diana is a capable leader, and as none of the rest of us have any interest in leading, we appreciate her doing so. And as far as I know, there is absolutely no 'tension' between any of us, whatever you mean by that." As I cast a glance out at the audience, though, I think I might detect the hint of a blush on Diana's face. My eyes shoot to Jendra, and he looks equally uncomfortable. Emerianne, thankfully, only meets my glance with a mildly amused expression.

Huh.

Fulvia looks a bit miffed, and I realize that my answer may have come off as a bit terser than I had intended it to. Well, frankly, she's just going to have to deal with it, because she's starting to grate on my nerves.

"… So. How about your family, then?" she asks, her voice less than enthusiastic.

I pause for a moment, deciding exactly how much I want to tell her, and how much I _should _tell her.

"I'm an only child," I begin. "But I love my parents. My father is a chemist, and my mother is a chef."

"I expect they'll miss you, hmm?" she asks, lips pursed in false sympathy.

And that makes me angry. Which is saying something, because I _never_ get angry. "Yes, I expect they will," I say, my voice carefully even. "What a shame that you're going to kill me."

There's a glint in Fulvia's eye. I've made her angry, but at the moment, I just don't care. Besides, what can she do to me?

I realize that I've miscalculated as soon as she opens her mouth to reply. Yes, she most certainly can hurt me. "Your father is a chemist, you said?" Her voice is cloying with triumph. "I bet you know a lot about chemicals, too. In fact, I _know_ you do." She grins at me, showing her teeth like a piranha.

And I clench my jaw, because she's hurt me more than she knows. The thing is, I never told the alliance about my chemicals. I wasn't keeping it a secret; I just never mentioned it. They never asked! But now they might not see it that way. I look at Emerianne desperately. Her face is puzzled, but I think she understands when she sees the look on mine, because she winks, smiling reassuringly.

I turn back to Fulvia, and shrug again. "Yes, a bit. We learn about them in school. I know the entire periodic table!" I do my level best to make my voice sound proud of that fact, even though I've actually had the periodic table memorized since I was five. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Unless, of course, she _does_ know, which, now that I think about it, wouldn't surprise me a bit.

She scowls, but lets the matter drop. Now that I know she's out to get me, I'm on my guard. She batters me with a plethora of questions, meant to get me to say something, anything, that would turn allies and sponsors against me, but I manage to neatly sidestep each one. Finally, the buzzer goes off, and a walk gratefully off the stage, passing Arielle Nikko on her way up. This one ought to be interesting, actually; I've been wondering about her.

**Aren't we all? But alas, you're going to have to wait until the next chapter. :D**


	15. D8 Interviews

**Okay, this is the last pre-game! I still haven't even started the epilogue of ToDT, so the Games may not start for a few days, but it should be pretty soon. Oh, and I haven't even begun to decide who I'm killing yet. Remember, though, you can't get mad if I kill you first! And as I said, my OCs are plot devices- I'm not going to favor them, but I may keep them around if I think it'll help the story, although obviously they won't win. Actually, come to think of it, I've got a pretty good idea for Sascha… heheheh. XD And amazingbliss24, are you sure it wouldn't be "Agnes Leo**_**nem**_** Fit?"**

**Ariele Nikko, District 8**

I bite my lip as Merryn's buzzer goes off. I really, really don't want to talk to Fulvia. I don't want to tell these Capitol people about myself, I don't want to see her caked-on makeup up close, and I most certainly don't want to speak with all of Panem watching me. But I have to. So I will.

I stand up, and the extensions in my hair that my stylist inflicted on me are almost ripped out. I freeze, taking a step forward while leaning back awkwardly, and rise slowly. Hopefully no one caught that. I step forward, passing Merryn on his way down the steps, and he nods at me. I think he's one of those people who I'd never figure out as long as I lived, even if I _did_ live through the next few weeks. Of course, that would mean he _wouldn't…_ But I halt that train of thought. Now probably isn't the time to start riling myself up over the Capitol. Really, Merryn and the rest seem perfectly nice, but I don't regret my decision to reject the alliance. For one thing, I just couldn't see myself as part of one anyway, and I refuse to make friends with any of the other tributes. Still, I _am_ hit with a pang of wistfulness as I look at the front row of the crowd, where Emerianne is reassuring Merryn that his interview went perfectly well. But then I imagine how sad I will be to see them die even as strangers, and I know that I would never be able to bear it as friends.

Up close, Fulvia is even more horrifying than I had imagined. Just like the Capitol. She grins, trying to look friendly, but Merryn has clearly put her in a bad mood. I admire him for that, though; he's the only one who's shown any defiance, aside from the Three girl maybe, no matter how accidental it may have been. Well, I intend to, although it'll probably fly right over half the Capitol's head. I don't care. The ones smart enough to matter will understand what I'm saying perfectly well.

I slump insolently against the back of the interview chair, the forest-green sleeves of my gown crossing to form a barrier between Fulvia and myself. I'm not like this, really; angry and defiant. But I refuse to play nice with the Capitol. I know they'll kill me for it, but I'm sort of willing to trade one-out-of-twenty-four odds in exchange for getting to die the way I want to.

"So, Ariele Nikko of District Eight!" Fulvia screeches, her voice far, far too enthusiastic. I raise an eyebrow, but remain silent. "Tell me what you think of the Capitol!"

I grin. I can't help it. Then I laugh out loud. Because, really? She's actually asking me what I think of it? She can't guess? I come up with the best answer that I can without getting killed on the spot. "Oh, it seems like a great place to live," I say. And it's true. "But I can't say I think much of it. You know. All things considered, what with the murder and all."

Fulvia's brow furrows as she digests my words, then her face splits into a genuine grin. She got the joke, but she didn't understand that it was intended to be a shot at her.

_Wow_. That's a special kind of stupid, right there.

"Very true, very true," she giggles. "And what about the Games themselves? What do you think of them?"

… Um. She's either unbelievably stupid or far smarter than I gave her credit for. But I don't care. I _want_ them to know.

"I hate them," I say flatly. "Twenty-three kids dead every year? How could anyone _not_?"

Surprisingly, Fulvia is thrown off by this. Not by the fact that I hate the Games; even she must realize that the tributes themselves obviously wouldn't be over the moon about them. But I don't think anyone has ever stated that as openly as I just have, and she's trying to think of a response to smooth it over.

"Oh, well, um… yes, that's very understandable, as one of those twenty-three…"

Wow. _Wow._ Even the Capitol people in the audience are raising their eyebrows at this. And she's confirmed my guess, too; the Gamemakers have already counted me among the twenty-three dead. Well, so be it. I prefer death to being a Victor. However, now that I'm absolutely sure of my fate, I decide to make her squirm.

"You say that almost like you know for sure," I comment innocently. "Almost like the Victor is predetermined."

Fulvia's eyes open wide in alarm, and she gapes soundlessly. "One of the twenty-four, I meant!" she blunders. "Or of the twenty-three, I mean, going by the odds, one could safely say…"

"That I'm going to die? Clearly. Isn't that sort of peculiar to think about?" I muse. Half of me is still just messing with Fulvia, but the other half is genuinely thinking out loud. "I mean normally, if you met me in any other circumstance… you would never expect that I could be dead within a week. Why would I? The thought wouldn't even cross your mind. But here, now, it's a stretch to think anything otherwise. I'm living on borrowed time. All of us tributes are."

Fulvia doesn't know how to even begin to reply to this. Really, that wasn't particularly deep as far as philosophical musings go, but it's still flown right over her head. Another thought occurs to me, although this one I keep to myself: is Fulvia genuinely stupid, or just ignorant? Are all of the Capitol people collectively denser than us, or do they just seem like it? I desperately want it to be true. I have to believe that they're somehow different, inferior, from the rest of us.

But they're not, and I know it. If Fulvia had been raised in District 8, she would be just as cautious and mistrusting and angry as me. And if I had been born into her life, I'm sure that I would have no problem whatsoever with the Hunger Games. Except, I just can't accept that last one, no matter how hard I try. It's true. I _know_ it's true. There's nothing fundamentally different about us. But I can't make myself believe that I could ever, ever see the Hunger Games as anything other than evil.

The buzzer goes off, and I raise an eyebrow, because that most certainly was not three minutes. They wanted me out. So I leave, rising to me feet and smiling ironically at the audience before striding back down to my chair. Jendra gives me a subtle nod and a smile as he passes me on the stairs.

His interview is, somehow, similar to the District 6 girl's. Apparently he too comes from a large family. And I reflect again on how right I was to stay out of the alliance. Because I barely know this boy at all, yet I already mourn his near-inevitable death.

Next is Diana. I'm pleased to note that she, too, stands up to Fulvia a bit, refusing to fit into the forgettable mold that the interviewer tries to corner her with. She's friendly about it, of course, much more so than me. But there's a certain fierceness to her, too.

"So you're the leader of the alliance?" Fulvia asks. "You seem protective, almost motherly. Is that the case?" Now _that_ was scripted. I find it impossible to believe that any level of insightfulness has or will ever come from Fulvia DeKernski's mouth.

Diana only gives a genuine smile. "More like a big sister," she says. "I'm just the oldest, that's all. But you're right about the protectiveness," she adds, and her eyes narrow slightly. "If anyone tries to hurt them, they'll have me to deal with."

It's not much of a threat, really; she's barely taller than me and not particularly muscular. And yet, it is. Of course, I didn't plan on attacking them anyway. Not, it'll be the Careers Diana's going to have to worry about. And the Gamemakers. And the arena itself.

Finally, Sascha's turn arrives. I raise an eyebrow as he grins somewhat dementedly at the interviewer, laughing silently to himself. I can't quite tell whether he's using the strangest angle in the history of the Games, or if he genuinely is a bit unhinged. As he speaks, however, I decide that he's not crazy, just a little odd. He, too, is having a bit of fun, leading Fulvia's logic in circles and cracking jokes that fly right over her head. She seems almost as grateful at the sound of his buzzer as mine.

Almost immediately, we are led back to the Training Center. One more night, I realize curiously. Tomorrow the Games begin.

**Yeeeessss! No more interviews! I flipping HATE interviews. Of course, I didn't know that until I tried to write them, and by then it was too late. But oh well! Because soon the Games start! w00t! Actually, they might be up by later tonight, judging by how hyped I am right now. XD Depends on how fast my homework goes, and whether I actually decide to study for once in my miserable life. CWL, you're helping me with Chinese on the bus tomorrow! ;)**


	16. Let the Games Begin

**Bwahahahaha.**

**Emerianne Rivkin, District 6, 13 years old**

The gong rings.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventh Quell begin!"

I don't think. I run for the door. Thankfully, I'm the closest to it. The tributes are arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, which is in the middle of a massive stone room. There are some doorways in the other direction, but it's difficult to tell where they lead. In the direction that I'm racing, a pair of massive, wooden double doors are thrown wide open, and I can see grass and trees beyond them.

I see something out of the corner of my eye and jump away from it reflexively, still running for all I'm worth. Then I realize that it's only Jendra. He gives me a tense but reassuring smile, and runs next to me. I'm grateful, because I know that he could go much faster if he chose not to wait for me.

We reach the door, and I notice that Merryn and Diana have converged on it, too. I can hear yelling and scuffling behind us, but I don't turn. Diana points slightly to the left, where there's a small forest across a few hundred yards of manicured grass. We follow her lead, although it occurs to me that we could all have been dead instantly if one of the Careers had come after us with a bow.

As we run, I look over my shoulder, hoping to see Sascha running after us. He isn't. Instead, Ariele, the District Eight girl, comes hurtling out the door of what I now realize is a full-sized castle, just like the ones that we learned about. I think there's blood on her, and she's limping slightly, but after looking at us for a moment, she dodges around the other side of the castle. I see something glimmering in her hand; clearly she has found some sort of weapon.

Finally, we are across the lawn and into the trees. Diana turns to look at the castle. It's a huge, grey-stoned building, surrounded by a moat of perfectly manicured grass. Where we have run, slightly to the left of the door, a forest of oak and maple trees grows right up to the massive stone wall that encloses the entire arena. Its diameter can't be more than half a mile; clearly, with fewer tributes, the Gamemakers have decided to keep us in close proximity to another. To the right of the door, where Ariele ran, is what looks like orchards and gardens, full of neatly trimmed hedges and colorful flowers. I think that I see the glimmer of water behind the castle, but before I can be sure, Diana points out that we should get moving before the Careers decide to come out and see if anyone has lingered.

She tries to get us to maintain a reasonable jog, but even this proves to be beyond Merryn's abilities and mine after a few minutes, so we slow to a walk. Finally, I have to ask. I know that there's no reason she would know, really, but for some reason I just assume that she'll be able to answer me. "Where's Sascha?"

Diana looks worried, and I think that she's been wondering the same thing. "I don't know," she says. "He was on the far side of the Cornucopia, I think. But there haven't been any cannons, have there? I'm sure we'll find him."

I realize that she's right. Ariele is already outside, and assuming that the Careers have all stayed inside, Sascha and the District Threes are the only ones unaccounted for. The Bloodbath is over already, because there wasn't one. There's no way that the Threes would have stuck around to fight it out with the Careers.

Diana stops about halfway between the castle and the wall surrounding the arena. "Here's as good as anywhere," she says with a shrug. I notice that she's led us on a slight tangent, so that we're almost directly in line with the front door of the castle. It also means that we're only a short walk from the garden, which seems to be the only source of food in the arena. There didn't seem to be any at the Cornucopia. In fact, the Cornucopia didn't look like it had anything at all in it other than weapons. I can't decide whether that's promising or not. The weather is extremely pleasant- I'm perfectly comfortable in the black T-shirt and loose, comfortable jeans that all of the tributes have been dressed it- and food looks plentiful in the garden, which definitely had a few fruit trees and things in it. Because with only six people to kill, the Gamemakers want them to be the most entertaining deaths possible.

**Borge Limbell, District 3, 14 years old**

I take a deep breath as my plate rises through the floor, taking in my surroundings as fast as I can. I'm in a huge stone room, the vaulted ceiling high above me. There are rich tapestries adorning the walls, and I recognize a few of them. Clearly, this room is meant to mimic the great hall of a medieval castle. Behind me, there are several doors in the wall, some open, some not. The Cornucopia is straight ahead of me, and an enormous doorway leads outside the building beyond it.

I turn to my right, and to my relief, Kendal is close by. She's not immediately next to me, but she's one plate over. In between us is the boy from District Nine. I'd have preferred for Kendal to have that plate, but he's better than the Careers, at least. He didn't seem particularly murderous in the Training Center, although I never actually talked to him.

I turn back to the Cornucopia. There's absolutely nothing in it aside from a massive pile of weapons. Kendal catches my eye, gestures to it, and shakes her head, then raises an eyebrow, asking my opinion. I shake my head in agreement. Neither of us is good enough with a weapon to make it worth the risk.

I turn back to them, then look over the Cornucopia and out the door opposite me. There's an expanse of grass, what looks like a patch of woods to the left, and gardens to the right. I can't really see them, but I picture the gardens. Out of place, in the Games, but tranquil. Pretty. Calm. Removed. There would be no blood there, no weapons, no death. Only trees and flowers, and the sound of a brook and the breeze.

I wonder if my family is watching. No, I don't. Of course they are. Mom and Dad are whispering anxiously to each other, Lillibent is criticizing something- maybe me, maybe the Capitol, and I'd be extremely curious to know which, actually- Tellman is trying to reassure my parents, and only Delas will actually be paying attention. She'll look calm, but she's wishing for me to come home, even though her life would probably be better if I died. I wonder if she thinks…

Suddenly Kendal grabs me by the arm, dragging me off of my plate. What is she doing? I thought the mines...?

Oh. Right. They are disarmed after a minute, which has gone by while I was staring out the door. I find my balance and follow her blindly as she wisely runs to the doors in the back of the room. No one seems to be paying us any attention. Most of the large alliance is running for the door as fast as they can, since they were on the plates closest to it. Except for the District Nine boy, who was all the way in the back, with us. He doesn't hesitate. He sprints straight up the middle of the room, but I lose sight as I dart around a doorframe.

The passageway, which seems like some kind of a service hallway, is cool and dark. We run up it, wincing as our footsteps echo painfully against the stone walls. It runs straight for maybe fifty feet or so, before opening into a huge, dim chamber. There are a few windows along the wall to my right, which cast long bands of light across the floor. There is a massive fireplace on the far wall, and it's full of tables and counters.

And people. I don't believe my eyes at first, but the room is full of people, all wearing extremely old-style white clothes, laboring away at various culinary tasks. Kendal and I freeze for a moment, but none of them even turn when we run into the room. It's eerie. Like they're robots or something. Or mutts. Maybe they are. In fact, they almost definitely are. But they don't turn to attack us, or even acknowledge us in any way.

"Um… hello?" Kendal asks, and I turn to her in shock. If they're not trying to kill us yet, why _attract_ their attention? But they don't react. And to my amazement, Kendal walks straight up to one of them, waving her hand in his face. He doesn't blink. Then she actually _wraps her hand around_ the tomato that he's chopping, right in the path of his knife. Without missing a beat, he picks up another one from a basket on the table next to the chopping block and starts meticulously slicing that one, instead.

"Are they Avoxes?" I ask hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kendal shrugs. "Don't know. They seem harmless enough, though. Part of the scenery, maybe. But I really wish I knew whether they were mutts, or robots, or people, or what…"

It's extremely unsettling, watching them, wondering if they understand us and are ignoring us, or are as inanimate as the knives they wield. I'd rather not stay here any longer than I need to, and I say so. Kendal, to my relief, agrees. In fact, she sounds a little nervous, too.

We skirt the edges of the room. Kendal reaches onto one of the tables and picks up a long butcher's knife. Clearly, the Gamemakers are not making weapons hard to come by. We reach the edge of the chamber, and open a heavy wooden door, which only leads to another long, dim passageway. This, at least, is unoccupied, though, so we duck into it. It leads to another wider, grander hallway, which is also empty. We jog up the soft red carpet that upholsters it until we arrive at an enormous, majestic stairway, then follow another hallway, duck through another door, dart up numberless dizzying, dark stairwells, until finally we are confident that the Careers will never find us. Of course, we're also thoroughly lost, but I think that we could manage to find our way out if we needed to.

And we run into more people on the way, too. They walk down the hallway, some grandly dressed, some humbly. When we get in their way, they change their direction just enough to avoid hitting us, but they still don't even look at us. It's very, very disconcerting, but I tell myself that it's preferable to them trying to kill us.

Finally, Kendal spots an open door leading to what looks like some kind of a parlor. It's empty. She darts over to a passing woman and lifts a tray full of food from her hands. The woman doesn't seem to notice, and just keeps walking. I follow Kendal into the room, and she shuts the door, then locks it. We both flop exhaustedly into the plush, velvet chair, worn out from our flight through the castle.

"So," she says after we get our breath back. "We lived."

And I realize, to my amazement, that she's right. We made it through the Bloodbath, or lack thereof. We're safe, relatively speaking, and we have a weapon, food, and a pitcher of water, and a fairly easy source of more if we need it.

Which is an excellent sign that something is about to go horrible wrong.

**Yup, a zero-death Bloodbath. Well, come on, I only get to murder six people; I don't want to kill anyone yet! Besides, nobody wants their characters dead in the first chapter, and I need both my OCs for some… plans of mine. Wondering where Sascha got to? Oh, just you wait. The next chapter will be MUCH more exciting, trust me. And we'll hear from one of the Careers and find out what, exactly, they were **_**doing**_** that entire time. XD Oh, yes, and don't blame me for the peculiar tribute outfits; you can thank CWL for that. At least I didn't put your guys in skinny jeans, unlike some I could name…**

**As of 5 minutes later, before publishing this: NOOOOOOOOOOO! I lost half of my next chapter! DX Now I'm going to have to write horrible things happening to a certain unlucky OC of mine all over again, crap.**

**As of 10 minutes later, still before publishing this: Erm. Nevermind, found it, national state of emergency is over.**


	17. Day 1, Part 2: Trap

**Okay, so. I'm going on vacation Sunday, which means my next few days are going to be utter chaos. Internet access and access to a computer will be dubious at best. I'll be back Saturday, so updates might be a little sketchy until then.**

**Remember how I said I had a plan for Sascha? Well… heh. Heheheh. Ooohh, this is going to be FUN. And, um, I'm sorry about his sudden ninja skillz in the first part. Don't worry, it'll be made up for later on in the chapter. Because somebody's about to have a very bad day. :)**

**Eliza Cabrera, District 2, 16 years old**

The gong rings, and everyone instantly shoots off of their plates, running for all they're worth. The Sixes, the Eight boy, and the Nine girl are the four tributes immediately to my left, and they run for the door. Verres, who is to my right, pounds alongside me towards the Cornucopia. I can see Tied and Jasper running for it too, from the other side of the room.

I cast an eye on the Cornucopia, my brain strategizing and analyzing a mile a minute. It's about eight feet high at the mouth, which faces the double doors leading outside, and it's completely full of weapons. More than twelve tributes could ever use, or we, the Careers, could ever destroy. Which means that we have to either mount a constant guard on them, or allow them to fall into the other tributes' hands. The Gamemakers are undoubtedly hoping that we'll use the second option.

For a moment, I think that no one is going to challenge us. Then I realize that the District Eight girl is sprinting immediately between Tied and Verres. I'm honestly impressed, but I know that she's doomed as Jasper darts to the side to cut her off. She cuts to the side, running closer to Tied, who keeps pounding along in a straight line, not even trying to intercept her.

I like Tied. I really do. She's the friendliest person I've ever met, and to be honest, she deserves to win more than Jasper or Verres or myself. It's just that she can be a bit infuriating as an ally. She doesn't really… take the initiative.

Jasper screams at her to attack the girl. Tied looks a little uncomfortable, and changes the angle of her run slightly, halfheartedly gaining on District Eight.

We're all a few feet from the mouth of the Cornucopia when a blur of movement at the top of the horn catches my eye. I look up, and see the District Nine boy go flying over our heads, a bow and sheath of arrows clutched in his hands. I realize that he must have run straight up the back of the Cornucopia instead of going around it, and plucked the weapons from the very top as he leapt off. Huh. Interesting strategy. He hits the ground running, heading for the door.

It might not work out well for the kid, though, because Verres curses bad-temperedly and takes off after him, after stopping to yank a short spear out of the tangle of metal filling the mouth of the horn. I consider running after him to help, but they're both far enough ahead of me that I know I could never catch up, and I'm pretty confident Verres can handle this kid on his own, anyway.

Meanwhile, Jasper is running into some difficulties. The District Eight girl is at the other side of the mouth of the Cornucopia, eight feet away from me. She has pulled a silver dagger from the horn, and is facing Jasper and Tied with a blank look on her face. The thing is, either of them could kill her in a second, but they're both unarmed, and she's blocking their path to the weapons. I, however, have a much better angle. I reach slowly for a medium-sized mace, hoping to sneak up on her. To my dismay, though, the movement disturbs a pile of knives, which clatter to the stone floor. Tied turns, distracted. The girl glances my way. Only Jasper manages to ignore them, and lunges forward.

The girl whips back toward him, slashing with the knife just in time. If she hadn't had it, or he was armed, she would be dead already. Jasper dances gracefully backward, then stalks her skillfully, forcing her to circle away from the Cornucopia. Both of them make a break at once; the Eight girl turns tail and sprints for the door, while Jasper pulls a long, slightly curved saber from the mouth of the horn. I think I see a cold smile pass over his face for a split second, before he's off after her.

Tied and I stand and watch. The Eight girl is forced to change course to avoid running straight into Verres, who's pulling back his arm to throw the spear at the Nine boy. The boy is almost at the door, but I've seen Verres throw the spear during training. He'll be dead in a moment.

Then something that neither of them was ready for happens. An entire section of the floor, stretching clear across the room in front of the door, abruptly drops open, right in front of the Nine boy. He tries to stop, but doesn't have nearly enough time, and ends up falling headlong into it with a yelp. Verres doesn't have time to stop either, but he does have time to react. As he reaches the trapdoor, he leaps over it, narrowly clearing the impressive distance.

I turn slightly to my right to see how Jasper is faring, and I notice that the trapdoor has closed. He's walking back towards us, his face blank, but I think I can see a hint of a scowl on his features. There's blood smeared on his sword, but the girl is gone. Even he cannot avoid being distracted by a massive chasm opening in the floor; presumably he, too, was forced to jump it. I point a questioning hand at the blood on his sword.

"I tripped when I had to jump the gap. She was already past it when it opened. I got her in the leg, though." _Like you helped,_ the look on his face says. I choose not to reply. That was hardly my fault, after all. He was closer!

I wonder why the Gamemakers opened the trapdoor. Was it to help the District Eight girl escape, help the Nine boy escape, or catch the Nine boy in some kind of a trap? The last one seems the most likely to me; the Gamemakers wouldn't have begrudged us two deaths for the Bloodbath.

Tied joins us. She's found her war hammer. "We stayin' here?" she asks in her rough accent.

I shrug when neither of the boys replies. "No food. Is it worth staying here to guard the weapons?"

"We should stay," Jasper states. "We can find food later. The other tributes might be sticking around to see if we're going to leave."

"Isn't that a good reason to take a look outside, then?" Verres points out.

I shake my head in disagreement. "The only ones outside are that girl and the group of five. Well, four now, I guess. They'll either be long gone or well hidden, if they did decide to stick around."

Tied swings the hammer impatiently. "What do we do, then? We just sit here?"

"Yes," Jasper says coldly, glaring distastefully at Tied.

Verres looks like he's considering arguing, but I shoot him a warning glance, rolling my eyes. If there was one thing I learned in the Capitol, it's never to argue with Jasper. Every single tiny decision he makes has meticulous reasoning behind it, no matter how irrelevant the decision itself it. He'd be an excellent mentor, actually. But of course, I can't allow him to win.

**Sascha Ire, District 9, 15 years old**

I sit up with a curse, my eyes still shut, rubbing the back of my head where I hit it on the floor. My other hand reaches behind me, slipping my newly acquired bow and arrows onto my back. Thankfully, I managed not to snap them when I fell.

My eyes snap open, and the first thing I register is… nothing. At all. I'm in near-total darkness. I wave my hand two inches from my nose, and I can barely make it out. It's sort of cold down here, in a T-shirt at least. I hold my hand above my head, and it encounters the rough stone ceiling before I can even fully extend my arm. I turn sideways, and discover that I'm in a tunnel that's barely a foot wider than my arm span.

And I don't particularly like it. I force myself to take several deep breaths, exerting all of my willpower to stay calm. The thing is, I really don't do "underground." At _all. _Starving to death? No problem. Full pack of Careers? I'd take them in an instant. But underground? Uh-uh. Hell no. So of course that's exactly what the Gamemakers do to me.

To my surprise, though, I haven't had a total panic attack yet, which is quite good by my standards. I think it's because it's _so_ dark, I can sort of trick myself into thinking that I'm just outside on a dark night. Huh. Sure. That would be nice. Because as soon as I focus, I can see the ceiling and walls, far closer than I would have preferred them to be.

And the adrenaline from my run across the Cornucopia room is waning, taking whatever confidence I had left with it. I don't like this. I really don't. It's too dark. It's too small. I want to get out, and I can't.

It's not getting smaller. I know it's not. Even the Gamemakers couldn't… oh. Yes. Yes, they could.

I whisper another hoarse, disbelieving curse. It doesn't echo. It just sort of gets sucked off into the blackness.

I could run. Would it help? I'd probably run two feet before I hit a wall and knocked myself out. There's got to be a way out. Maybe. The ceiling where I fell through is uniform and blank, but there's no way they trapped me down here just to watch me die of dehydration. Which means… either they're very, very confident that I'm going to panic- and to be honest, I don't think they'd be wrong- or something is going to happen to me as soon as the rest of the arena quiets down. Mutts? Some other trick? I don't know. But whatever it is, I don't know how I'm going to fight it. How do I shoot a bow that I can barely see?

I realize that I'm still directly underneath the Cornucopia room, so I make a point of listening carefully, knowing that the Careers are probably up there. Besides, it distracts me from the fact that absolutely anything could be watching me, could be right behind me. Right now. I spin, for all the good it does, and immediately mock myself for it. I'm paranoid. Right? Because there's nothing there, at least not that I can see. I mean, hell, Jasper Johar could be standing right in front of me and I'd never notice.

Jasper. Right. I remember that small task that I have set for myself: listen for the Careers. I do so. Either they've left, they're not talking, or I'm trapped under very thick stone. I wonder how thick it is. Probably thick enough that if it ever collapsed…

I feel slightly sick. I take another few deep breaths and lean my forehead and elbows against the cold stone wall, lacing my fingers behind my head. The Gamemakers are _not_ going to keep me down here forever. They have to let me out at some point. And when they do it'll probably be right in the middle of the Career pack, but honestly, I really don't care about that. I want to get _out._

I just heard something. A rustle. A hiss. I don't know. I can't tell how close it was. Pretty close, I think, but not right on top of me.

I try another deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut. It doesn't work. I'm breathing so fast I'm practically hyperventilating. Maybe there's not enough air down here. Maybe I'll suffocate…

No. I have to move. I know I should move.

The noise. Again. A hiss. I still can't tell where.

I turn.

It's right behind me.

I freeze, and to my eternal shame, give a helpless sort of whimper, staring into the mouth full of needlelike teeth that is inches from my eye. Because I _can_ see it. I don't know how. It doesn't make sense. The creature doesn't seem to be glowing, and I can still barely see anything else. But the Gamemakers made sure I could see _this._

It's humanoid. Bigger than me, but not by too much. Pale, slimy, scabby skin. Milky, sightless eyes. And a gaping mouth full of grimy, horrible pointed teeth. Bloodstained teeth. Whose blood, I wonder? Was there another tribute down here? Wouldn't I have heard them scream?

I don't move. It doesn't either. But I'm terrified. This is my nightmare that they've thrown me into. I'm a hunter, so they have sent this thing to hunt _me_, underground, where they know that I'm already afraid.

I can feel myself shaking. A tiny noise escapes my lips.

And the _thing_ goes for my throat. It doesn't have far to go, from right in front of my face. I know instinctively that if I duck its jaws will close on my face instead, so I lunge, too. One of my hands lands underneath the thing's jaw, the other on its shoulder. Its skin is the worst thing I could imagine, dirty and greasy against mine. The creature dives at me, and I slam into the wall. The breath is knocked out of me, and I wince as my head strikes the rock.

It's strong, too strong. It throws itself wildly at me, jaws snapping inches from my face. I'm pinned to the wall, and my arms are shaking. It's stronger than me. I can't hold it off. But somehow, I do.

I'm far, far too terrified to think rationally. Somehow, they knew my worst fears, better than I did. Because this thing doesn't really seem like a mutt. It seems like what a person would turn into if they were trapped underground for a very, very long time. Wild. Hungry. Blind. And I can't deal with it. I can't. I was never afraid of the Games, really. I wasn't afraid of dying. I sort of… intended to, I think. Because I can't imagine myself old and grey-haired. I can't even imagine myself as a grown man. I was never cut out to be one. So death is fine. But not like this.

And as soon as I think that, the creature raises its hand, and its long, grimy fingernails go for my eyes. They rake across my face, and I twist wildly, barely managing to keep it from blinding me. It hisses again. I am more terrified than I have ever been in my life. I shove at the thing with panicked strength, and it is forced backwards. Not much, but enough. I duck, diving underneath its slashing arm and rolling against the opposite wall, the rough rock scraping me painfully. Before I've even sat up, my bow if off my back, an arrow notched on the string. And in another split second, the arrow has flown through the thing's neck.

Silence. After the thing's venomous hissing, the quiet is extreme. I stay frozen for a long time, half-sitting, half-lying on the ground, the bow raised in front of me, the fingers of my right hand still splayed from releasing the arrow. Then I collapse flat onto my back, my eyes closed, shaking. I feel my heart beating madly in my chest.

It's a long time before I haul myself upright. I know all of Panem is watching me, but I'm putting in a massive amount of effort just to keep myself from curling up in a ball on the ground and crying like a little girl, or stabbing myself in the neck with an arrow just to escape this goddamn tunnel, because I cannot handle this.

I struggle to control my breathing as I return my bow to my back. Clearly, the whatever-it-was hunted by sound. And knowing the Gamemakers, there are probably plenty more where that came from, and their hearing is almost definitely better than mine. If I can hear my heart beating, they probably can, too.

Of course, this thought doesn't exactly help to calm me down, and my breath catches in my throat. I have to get out of here. Now. Before any more _things_ show up. It occurs to me that it would probably be smarter for me to keep my bow out, and I reach automatically over my shoulder for it. And as I curl my fingers around it, my fingertips touch something else, too. Something cold and grimy.

My stomach drops, and I know what's going to happen before it does. I try to turn and dodge away, but, as I knew perfectly well, I'm not fast enough. I've only turned halfway when the second creature's head shoots forward like a striking snake, and its teeth sink into the flesh where my shoulder meets my neck. I can't keep a yell of pain, possibly with some pure terror mixed in, from escaping me, which I know is disastrous, since any other creatures within a mile are now stalking me. Of course, that won't matter if this one kills me. Before I can twist away, one of the thing's arms circles my chest, the other my neck, and I'm practically lifted off my feet. My arms are pinned to my sides; my bow is trapped between my back and the creature. Its teeth bite even deeper into my shoulder, and it begins to try to either break my neck or rip my head off, whichever comes first. Bloody nails scrabble at my neck just above where its jaws are ripping at me.

I'm frozen. I couldn't move even if I tried. My breathing is coming in sharp gasps, and the pain of the creature tearing at me is unimaginable. I can't believe that the Gamemakers are doing this to me. Because I know they're doing it on purpose. Do they have some sort of special camera to film in a tunnel this dark? Because if not, then this is hardly a good show for the audience, which means that they are doing this only to be as cruel as possible to me. I can't decide which option I prefer; that all of Panem is watching this clearly, or that the Gamemakers are simply torturing me for their amusement.

The thing shifts its grip on my neck, and my breathing is cut off completely. My chin is jerked upward as the creature's bony wrist cuts into my throat. Unintentionally, it is strangling me to death. I fall into a complete panic, thrashing madly in the creature's grip. My shoulder is ripped from its jaws, and my right arm is freed. I twist frantically to the side and elbow the thing in the face. Its hold loosens to the point where, once again, I am able to wriggle away, whip my bow off my back, and notch an arrow to it.

This time, I aim too low, and my arrow thuds into the top of the thing's chest, a thin, dark line against the unnaturally illuminated creature. It doesn't die right away. It comes after me, almost vengefully, and I notch another arrow, stumbling backwards down the tunnel. Its pale eyes, which I know are blind, stare straight at me. But before I fire again, it collapses forward with another awful hiss.

This time, I don't fall, shaking, to the ground. I turn and run, faster than I have ever run in my life. I can barely see well enough to avoid running into walls, but I don't care. As I sprint, I keep the arrow on my bow, pointing it in every direction and constantly glancing over my shoulder, even above my head. I know that as long as I don't let them sneak up on me, and as long as my trembling legs don't collapse from underneath me, I can defend myself. I just can't let them get close.

But they do come after me. Again, and again, and again. My footsteps are silent, but I know they can hear me breathing, and I'm still convinced that they can hear my heart beating, with it pounding as loudly as it is. Sometimes, their hisses warn me, and I turn and shoot without even stopping to think about it. More often than not, they are completely silent, and I turn and almost scream as I realize that I almost took one step too many without looking over my shoulder, that there was a gaping mouth full of needlelike teeth a hair away from the back of my neck. But still I run. I don't know how long. I know that I can't run at a dead sprint for more than a minute or so usually, although pure panic is probably spurring me on now. But it feels like hours. Days. My heart pounds and my breathing jumps. I'm almost sobbing, and I don't think I can run any longer, but I know I can't face what would happen to me if I stopped.

Then I see sunlight. It illuminates a flight of steps at the end of the tunnel, leading to the surface. But it seems impossible. Unreachable. Because I am still far, far away, in the darkness.

In my distraction, one of the creatures' nails swipes at my arm. I turn and shoot it, only to find that it was in the process of leaping for my neck, and its momentum carries it forward, knocking me to the ground. This one, too, I was slightly off-target on. It is wounded, but not dead. I scramble backwards on my hands and feet, watching in dismay as more of the things come after me. They move like spiders up the tunnel, hissing in unison. The sound surrounds me. I shoot the one right in front of me, again, and this time my arrow flies as I had hoped, burying itself deep in the thing's eye.

My terror overcomes my disgust, and I am on my feet again. There are so many of the creatures after me now that I can hear their usually-silent treads, soft rustles against the stone. I bolt for the sunlit staircase with everything I have left, which isn't much, maybe not enough.

**Muahahahahah. I had waaaaay too much fun writing that.**


	18. Day 1, Part 3: Hunt

**Okay, just for the record, I don't plan in advance exactly whose POV I'm going to use to write what. So if another character gets two before your character gets one, it doesn't mean anything, it just means that I fail spectacularly at planning ahead. ;) When your POV shows up has nothing whatsoever to do with when your character will kick the bucket, 'kay? 'Kay.**

**Oh, and I really am so, so sorry for making the storyline sort of centered around my OCs, for the moment at least, that was just more of me failing to plan ahead. :( See, I really didn't want to make anyone else's character go through that… situation, but I realized that the next death can't happen for a few days at least- you'll see why when it happens- so I'm sort of forced to focus on that Sascha-centric arc for the moment, since it's the only mildly interesting thing that's happened so far. Don't worry, I'll shut up about him after a few chapters. But for now, let's see if everybody's favorite dumbass got eaten by cave goblins.**

**Merryn Circa, District 6, 13 years old**

From the angle of the sun, it's perhaps five o'clock. For lack of anything better to do, Diana, Jendra, Emerianne and I have been flopped on the ground in our clearing, conversing in whispers. It should be relaxing, but it's nervewracking. This is not a large arena. The Careers might not be after us yet, but come nightfall, they will be. Or they may have decided to buck the trend and come people-hunting already. They're the only armed tributes in the arena, as far as I know, aside from the District Eight girl, and she only had some kind of knife. I wonder where she went. The District Threes managed to pull an even better disappearing act, which means that they're probably still in the castle, because I haven't heard any cannons. I try not to think about where Sascha could be, missing in action. I have horrible visions of him captured by the Careers, and I struggle to block them from my mind. If the Careers had caught him, they would have killed him already, and we would have heard the cannon… right?

Jendra's stomach growls. Loudly. Diana bites back a smile, sighing exaggeratedly and jumping to her feet. "I guess it's dinnertime," she says.

Actually, I quite agree. Jendra, Emerianne and I rise, and Diana leads the way on the short walk to the orchard. We halt at the edge of the tree line, scoping out the gardens. I don't see anybody, but then again I don't exactly have eagle eyes. However, the rest of the alliance doesn't catch sight of anyone either, so we enter the orchard cautiously, keeping an eye out for the Careers or any kind of Gamemaker trick. Somehow, if we ran into Ariele or the Threes, I just don't think they'd hurt us.

We find a few fruit trees, and collectively stuff our faces. I guess the fruit could be poisoned, but I doubt it, as it seems to be the only source of food in the arena. We're turning to leave, holding our shirts to form makeshift baskets full of fruit, when something small and furry hops out of a hole. A rabbit. It snuffles toward Jendra, and he scrambles backward.

Let me tell you, if you've never seen a sixteen-year-old boy back away from a bunny rabbit, it's a sight to see. Still, I don't blame him. This is the Hunger Games, after all. It's usually a safe bet that anything and everything that moves wants to kill you.

And Jendra turns out to be perfectly right, because the bunny has fangs. My jaw drops in disbelief as the furry little creature springs at Jendra, teeth bared. Jendra's eyes widen in shock, and he swings his fist with a curse that I'm reasonably sure he learned from Sascha, hitting the thing in midair. It falls to the ground, and he closes his eyes… and steps on it. We all wince as the sound of a cracking bunny skull cuts through the air, and Emerianne gives a small moan.

Jendra looks a little sick. He blinks twice, trying not to look at the sad little pile of fluffy bunny lying at his feet.

Diana seems torn between dismay and amusement at his predicament. "You're not really cut out for this, are you?" she says, tongue in cheek.

He shakes his head back and forth quickly. "Killing bunny rabbits by stomping on them wasn't exactly in the job description."

Poor Jendra. I don't think Emerianne will ever forgive him for that; she looks comically appalled. I just feel bad for him. What was he supposed to do, let a rabbit rip his throat out? Because I'm pretty sure that's what it was going for. But that's what the Hunger Games are all about, isn't it? You kill to save yourself. And if Jendra can barely kill a mutt that's trying to murder him, that might be a problem.

"Um… let's get some water," Diana says. We all nod in silent agreement, and troop to the back of the arena, walking closer to the outside wall than to the castle. There's a glimmering lake behind it, and we approach it cautiously. Thankfully, the garden continues right up to the edge of the lake, so we can duck behind a hedge and stay relatively hidden as we drink.

Emerianne spots some leaves she recognizes from the medical plants booth in training growing at the edge of the water, and I find that I recognize them, too. We both gather some, shoving them in our pockets. Diana catches on to the idea, and tells us to grab any other herbs and things we recognize as we walk back through the garden. This time, we walk a little closer to the castle. It's sunset by now.

I catch a glimpse of the castle through the door, and I freeze. "_Diana!"_ I hiss, pointing. She and I stare through the trees as the double doors we escaped through slowly open. The Careers must have closed them before. They appear in the doorway, all of them armed to the teeth. They don't seem to have a leader, but they all lope forward at once. I know they can't see us, but by pure chance, they're headed straight for us.

Shoot. _Shoot._ What do we do? If we run, they'll hear us. If we stay, they'll kill us. I look to Diana, hoping that she'll know what to do. For a moment, she looks as lost as me, then she takes a single, silent step backward, gesturing for us to follow her lead. Silently, painfully, we move out of the Careers' path. They take their time, crossing the lawn that surrounds the castle, but soon, they're too close for us to move without them hearing us. We're fairly well hidden by now, but not perfectly.

Suddenly, the Careers slow, disagreeing on something.

"Where do you think they'd be?" asks the girl with the long, silver hair.

Her District partner, the leaner boy, sneers at her. "They could be anywhere, but it doesn't matter. This is a small arena. We'll find them."

"Fine, but where do we look?" asks the more muscular boy. "We should check the lake."

The Two boy gives him a look. "They'd never stay there for more than a few minutes. Too visible."

The other boy gives him a scowl to match his own, but doesn't reply. Tied, however, does. "Garden," she says. "Tributes always go for the food."

I feel a bit betrayed. We were friends, sort of, in training. I knew, of course, that once the Games started we would be enemies, but… I don't know. I _hate_ this.

Then I realize that she's trying to help us. I remember what she said to me during training, that tributes always run for the woods, if there are any. She _does_ think we're in the woods- and she's right- but she told the Careers to go to the garden, anyway.

Not that it helps. The Two boy ignores her completely, and starts jogging again. However, since they stopped to plan, the angle of his run changed slightly, and now he's headed straight for Jendra and Emerianne. They look from him to Diana and I in horror. The Career boy is close enough that if they tried to move, there's no way that he wouldn't hear them. But he's practically going to trip over them. They have to make a break for it. And they're about to, when a yell cuts the air.

It's definitely a boy, and I know exactly who. I know it wasn't me, Jendra, the Two boy, or the Four boy. The Three boy is almost definitely in the castle somewhere, and it definitely didn't come from there. Which means that it was Sascha.

The Careers change course immediately, heading in the direction that it came from, which is in between the edge of the woods and the lake. My right, facing the front door of the castle. This time, they're not taking their time; they're running as fast as they can.

We rise to our feet numbly from where we had been crouching in the bushes as soon as they round the corner of the castle.

Sascha screams again, and this time, I think it's one of pain. Jendra and Emerianne turn in the direction it came from, clearly ready to run and help him. Diana and I stay still, however. Clearly, Diana has realized the same awful thing that I have.

"We can't," she says. "We'll run straight into the Careers. And whatever's hurting him can hurt us, too." I can see, however, how much the decision is costing her. I know that she sees herself as responsible for us, and she feels like she's abandoning him. But she's making the right decision. If we go over there, we'll all end up dead.

But I still can't help wincing as another yell of agony hits my ears.

"She's right," I say anyway. I don't want Diana to feel like this decision rests completely on her shoulders. I can see that Jendra and Emerianne know I'm right, but it's hurting them, too.

Jendra is quiet for a long time. Emerianne, I think, is crying.

"We should get some weapons," Jendra says after a while, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with us. He's got a point. We know where the Careers are, after all, I think morbidly, then instantly regret it.

Diana nods, and runs from the woods without another word. We follow her across the grass and into the castle. The Cornucopia stands, glittering, in the middle of the enormous hall. We approach it slowly, staring at the weapons that fill it, but none of us seem quite willing to touch it. It's me who finally breaks the spell. I pick up a single, small knife from the floor, then find a belt and sheath that goes with it. Emerianne picks out a belt of throwing knives. It's actually the older kids who seem a little uncertain. Finally, Diana chooses a medium-length spear from the pile, and Jendra grabs a scimitar-like sword.

"You can use a sword?" Diana asks.

Jendra shakes his head. "I don't think I can use any of these. But Sascha learned swordplay during training, remember?" This, of course, triggers Emerianne to start crying again, and I feel terrible for all three of them. Actually, I think I feel worse for them than I do for Sascha, which is extremely peculiar, considering that he's the one who's… dead?

"No cannon," I say suddenly. They all turn, staring at me in confusion. "He still isn't dead. There hasn't been a cannon."

"I'm going to look for him," Jendra announces. Diana opens her mouth to object, but he cuts her off. "I promise the Careers won't get me. If Sascha's out there, which he is, he's never going to find us. Go to the clearing where we were before. I'll meet you in a few hours."

Diana still looks like she wants to stop him, but she doesn't. "Well, be careful," she says softly. "See you later. Remember, it's not just the Careers out there. Whatever hurt Sascha will be more than happy to come after you, too."

Jendra nods slowly. I think he's scared. However, I can also tell he's not mad at Diana, which is a relief. It wouldn't be good for us to be at each other's throats on the first day. Actually, when he looks her in the eye and says, "I'll be careful. I promise," I'm half expecting sappy violin music to start playing. Emerianne, who has cheered up enormously since Jendra's decision, pulls a face and pretends to shoot herself behind them, exaggeratedly falling over dead. I try to muffle a laugh, and it comes out as a snort. Older kids. I'll never understand them.

**The plot thickens. Oh, Sascha. He's indestructible. (Well, no, actually, but… ) What has he gotten himself into this time? Next chapter will most likely star Ariele and Verres. It'll be out either later today, which I'll do my best to pull off, or later this week, if I can't, as this is my last day with internet for a while. :( But I'll still get started on writing it even if I can't publish. And yes, I am eventually going to kill someone. Just give me time. There will be blood. ;)**


	19. Day 1, Part 4: Nocturnal

**Ariele Nikko, District 8, 16 years old**

I duck behind a raspberry bush, waiting patiently as Diana, Jendra, and the Six kids gather fruit from the orchard. It probably wouldn't hurt to show myself, since I sort of doubt they'd hurt me, but I'd rather not risk it. I hear a scuffle and a curse, and laugh to myself as I realize they've discovered the carnivorous bunnies. Those threw me off for a while, but eventually I reached the point where I could kill them without thinking about it. Sort of like a miniature version of the Games.

Jendra seems to agree. I listen to the rest of the alliance trying to cheer him up, and I can picture the look on his face perfectly. Poor guy. Still, killing a bunny isn't exactly the worst thing that could have happened to him.

Eventually, the alliance decides to go to the lake. I sit still until they leave, then dart around to the other side of the castle, in front of the doors and into the woods. I notice that the doors are closed; presumably the Careers didn't feel like posting a guard. I jog for a while through the silence, keeping track of my location based on the castle, which rises high above the trees.

Just as the sun begins to set, I see something in a clearing ahead of me. At first, I think it's a well, but then I realize that it's the entrance to some kind of stone passageway. There are stairs leading into it, and it points toward the castle.

I wonder for a few minutes whether I would be better off in the castle. This seems to be the only way in, aside from the front hall, which the Careers are guarding. The Threes, I know, are inside. Really, it depends on where the Careers decide to hunt. They're the only dangerous thing I've run into so far, aside from the carnivorous bunnies. I actually think that it would easier to hide from the Careers in the castle, and besides, they wouldn't be looking for me there. I'm reasonably sure that I could do a better job of hiding than the District Threes, and if and when the Careers came in and found them, they probably wouldn't even go into the castle again. So really, it seems like the smart thing to do.

But that is one _dark_ tunnel.

I'm standing to the left of it when I hear something. I whip my head over my shoulder, making sure that no one is sneaking up on me. Then I realize that the sound is coming from in the tunnel. I think it's getting closer, and I'd rather not be in full view if it decides to come out. I don't have time to climb a tree, so I dart off to the left, where I'll have a side-on view of whatever comes out, and it won't run straight into me. Hopefully. I shimmy under some bushes until I'm fully hidden, my silver knife clutched in my hand.

I don't have long to wait. In a few seconds, the Nine boy comes flying out of the tunnel like a bat out of hell, a bow clutched in one hand and an arrow in the other. There's blood dripping down his arm, and he appears to be in a total panic. So _that's_ where he got to. I had seen him in the Cornucopia room, but lost track of him when the Two boy started trying to kill me.

The boy is almost all the way up the stairs when a clawlike, pale hand shoots out of the darkness and seizes his ankle. I gasp, then curse myself for it, but he didn't hear me. Or if he did, he didn't care. I don't think I would, if I were him. He falls to the ground with a yell of dismay, and my jaw drops as whatever has him starts dragging him backwards. He kicks frantically, his eyes wide with terror. Suddenly, he screams, his face twisted in pain. Clearly, whatever has his leg just did something nasty to it.

Do I help him? I don't know. I mean, it's the Hunger Games. He _has_ to die, if I'm going to live. But really, I don't wish a fate like that on anyone. I actually think that the best thing for me to do would be to throw my knife at him. He'd be dead, but at least he wouldn't get killed by the whatsit that's currently trying to drag him underground, and gnawing on his leg judging by the look on his face. The thing is, my knife would go with him.

Am I really like that? I'm going to let him die a horrible death because I'm not willing to part with my knife? I hate the Hunger Games. I really do. But of course, that's not fair. Because they're not _changing_ me. They're just bringing out what I was capable of all along.

Before I arrive at a decision, the boy remembers his bow. He tries to twist onto his back, but cries out in pain again. Apparently, whatever has him still isn't letting go. Instead, he holds the bow like a crossbow in his left hand, raising himself onto his right side and firing the arrow down the arm with the bow. A venomous hiss echoes from the tunnel.

For a moment, the boy looks like he's considering passing out on the spot. Then he takes another look into the tunnel and scrambles to his feet, obviously terrified by whatever he saw. As I thought, the leg that the creature grabbed is covered in blood. He sprints into the woods regardless, his knuckles white around the bow.

Hmm. Perhaps I won't be using that tunnel, after all.

It occurs to me that if he felt the need to run from whatever he saw in there, I might not want to be here anymore. I skirt the edge of the clearing, running off in the opposite direction from the boy. I'd prefer not to come face-to-face with a panicked tribute with a bow.

I change my course slightly as I jog through the woods when the echo of voices reaches me. The Careers, I can tell. Once again, I duck out of sight, although the sun has almost fully set by now.

"Alright, then, where do _you_ think it came from?" the Four boy grumbles bad-temperedly.

"Over there, I said," replies the one from Two, equally cold. I scowl at his voice, rubbing my leg. I know perfectly well that I only escaped from him by sheer luck, but still, I don't particularly appreciate being stabbed.

Well, I hope they find the tunnel. I hope they decide to explore it. Because I still only have half an idea of what's in there, but whatever it is, it's obviously nasty. I suppose that if one boy from Nine could survive, a full pack of Careers would, too, but it might knock some of the bravado out of them.

Maybe I'll give them a little help.

I pick up a stick from the ground, and throw it in the direction of the tunnel with all my might. It hits a maple tree with a satisfying _thud_.

"Over there, I just heard it!" the smaller girl cries excitedly.

It's only the bigger girl who seems to have any kind of an instinct for danger. "What was he yellin' about?" she asks in her low voice. The Careers stop.

"Huh?" her District partner asks.

"I said, whoever was yellin', what were they yellin' about? Don't want whatever got him comin' after us."

Even though I can't see him, I can practically hear the Two boy's sneer. "Who cares if it does? I didn't hear a cannon, did you? Which means he's still alive, whoever he is. Which means that whatever was after him isn't that dangerous, and that we still need to kill him."

Well, it's good logic, I've got to admit. I wait until the Careers jog off again, right on target this time, before I climb up a tree. I wonder if whatever was in the tunnel can climb? Things that live in tunnels can't climb. Right?

**Verres Pulcher, District 4, 18 years old**

I hate to admit it, but I'm just the tiniest bit nervous as we run toward the noise. Honestly, who runs _toward_ mysterious noises on dark nights? But, of course, I don't complain, because everyone knows that Careers always investigate if there's even the slightest chance of taking somebody out. I know it has to be one of the two older boys from the alliance, since the little boy's voice is too high and the other boy is in the castle somewhere, probably. It's sort of a good thing and sort of a bad thing, since it means that the rest of his alliance might be around.

Jasper flits through the trees like a wraith. I don't really know why he's bothering being silent, with Tied barging along behind him. Eliza lopes along beside me, mace at the ready. I like Eliza. She can't hold a candle to Merenda, of course, but I've found that she's the easiest to talk to. Jasper doesn't really do socializing, and Tied isn't the best conversationalist.

"So what do you think we're running straight into?" she asks, her voice a low mutter.

"Who knows?" I reply, rolling my eyes. "There's no way this is worth it. Whoever that was is either long gone if they can run, or so badly hurt that they'd be dead in a few minutes without our help."

She nods in agreement. "Well, we'll just stay on guard, and I'm sure we can dodge whatever tried to kill whoever it was. Just let Jasper run into it first."

Like that'll happen. Jasper is many things, but 'fearless leader' isn't one of them. He's far, far too smart for that. No, all of us will end up hanging back but Tied, which I feel a little guilty about. Not guilty enough to go with her, of course, but still.

As it turns out, the mysterious threat comes to us. Eliza turns to reply to me. As she does, she glances over my shoulder, and her eyes go wide. I spin, and find myself face-to-face with the ugliest muttation I've ever seen. It's shaped like a person, except… not quite, sort of. It's muscular, in a lean way, with thin, pale, almost transparent skin, which is covered in grime. I think it's blind. It opens its mouth, like it's smiling at me, or maybe smelling me, and I jump back with a yelp and a curse, because those are the sharpest teeth I've seen in my life.

My backwards jump carries me straight into Eliza. We both stagger to our feet, and I run my spear through the creature in front of me without stopping to think about it. I can see more of them darting, spider-like, through the woods, their skin almost glowing in the light of the newly-risen moon.

The four of us group into a rough formation, weapons raised, as they approach. They don't even slow down. They throw themselves at us wildly, teeth snapping. We cut them down as fast as they appear. And I have to admit, I'm a little freaked out. I think that the things hunt by sound, so they hiss as they approach, probably listening for the echoes.

Then they get clever, and things get worse. One of them drops out of a tree onto Tied's back and sinks its teeth into her upper arm. She gives a bellow of pain, and Eliza whirls, smashing the thing's skull with her mace. I look up, and groan. Now the treetops are absolutely full of the things, and they're still coming out of the woods on ground level, too. They're starting to get closer before we have time to take them out, and all of us are getting tired. By sheer weight of numbers, the creatures are beginning to win.

"We got to run," Tied grunts, smashing one of the things with her massive hammer.

"Seconded," I agree breathlessly.

Even Jasper is looking a little shell-shocked. "The castle," he decides. We all nod in agreement, and take off. Almost immediately, the girls, particularly Tied, are having trouble keeping up. The creatures are scuttling after them, gaining fast, and they constantly have to turn and defend their backs against the leaping creatures. Then Tied comes up with an idea that I have to admit I'm impressed by, particularly coming from her. She swings Eliza up onto her back, mace and all. Tied runs as fast as she can, while Eliza swings the mace, providing a rearguard. Jasper and I run on either side of Tied, slightly in front of her, beating off the mutts.

And they pursue us straight up to the front door. We're all gasping for breath by the time we reach it, except for Eliza. She and Jasper hold the doorway, while Tied and I, who are bigger, shove the massive doors shut as fast as we can. It takes a while, and Eliza and Jasper are almost overwhelmed. Finally, though, they slam shut with an echoing _bang. _We're thrown into total darkness. None of us have any matches or anything on us, and there's nothing but weapons in the Cornucopia. I glance warily in the direction of the door, although of course I can't see anything, wincing at the scratches and thuds coming from it. The things don't seem to be making any progress, but apparently they're remarkably perseverant, because they keep at it all night long. I don't sleep at all, and I don't think the others do, either. I don't envy the rest of the tributes, out there at night.

Finally, when it must be just before sunrise, the noises wane, then stop altogether. We wait a while, as the sun begins to slope in through the thin windows, then a shadowy figure who must be Jasper strides to the door. I'm fairly sure he hesitates before opening it, and I might detect the hint of a cringe as he does. But there's nothing there. We're greeted with the same panorama as before, a stretch of lawn, then woods to the left, gardens to the right.

**Oh yes, they come out to hunt at night. :D Muahahahahah. Next chapter we'll hear from the wise Diana and the wonderful Kendal, possible more depending on how long they turn out to be. I'm not making these feature two POVs per chapter intentionally, that just seems to be the way things turn out. And Sascha isn't THAT much wimpier than the Careers. You'd be a little more freaked out too if you were alone and underground when the mutts came a-callin'. XD Sorry if the timeline is a little confusing. I'm trying to keep this in chronological order, but there are a lot of things happening simultaneously. And yes, somebody's kicking the bucket soon.**


	20. Day 1, Part 5: Mutts

**Those mutts, incidentally, are inspired by the movie **_**The Descent.**_** If you ever get a chance to watch that… run like hell. I'm serious. I saw it two weeks ago and I'm **_**still**_** looking over my shoulder. So I decided to project my abject terror on you all. :)**

**Diana Renald, District 9, 17 years old**

Merryn, Emerianne, and I walk in silence back to the clearing where we were before. I feel absolutely terrible. The worst thing is, I know that if I had to do it over again, I would do the same thing. How could I risk the other three? But I don't know what I'm going to do if Jendra finds Sascha. Even though I know they won't tell him that we didn't help him, I'm going to have trouble looking him in the eye.

The thing is, I'm angry, too. Because I was supposed to protect him, him and all the rest. I'm the oldest. I'm the leader. And the Gamemakers somehow yanked him away, and did… what? Clearly, something awful. I heard him scream. And he was gone for a long time, too. Whatever they were doing to torment him, it went on for a while. And more than ever, I want to win, so that I can walk into the Capitol, into the room that the Gamemakers work from, and beat them to death. I guess other Victors have probably felt the same way. But other Victors haven't been quite as angry as I am now…

"Diana?" Emerianne asks.

I jerk myself out of my increasingly berserk stupor. "Huh? What?"

"We're at the clearing," she says softly. "And you shouldn't grind your teeth like that, you know. It's bad for them."

Merryn nods sagely, clearly fighting the urge to smile. I smile back, sinking to the ground.

"You're probably right. I'm just nervous."

I wince as a yell echoes through the woods. We've been listening to the Careers for a while, off in the direction that Jendra and maybe Sascha are in. It's nervewracking, but we haven't heard either of their voices, which is a good thing, maybe. I have no idea whether the Careers are fighting among themselves or fighting something else, but whatever it is, it's not exactly helping my anxiety, listening to the sounds of battle.

We've been sitting in silence for a long time when something moves in my peripheral vision. I jerk my head to the side, on edge, but it's only a silver parachute. To my surprise, a few more fall, five total. Each carries a canteen.

"Handy," I say, holding one up. "Now we won't have to go to the lake more than once a day."

Merryn, however, has read into it more deeply than me. "And there are five of them," he grins. "Which means there are going to be five of us. The sponsors can see what's going on over there." He jerks his head in the general direction of the noise coming from the other part of the woods.

I decide to use some deductive skills of my own. "And I think we should fill them now," I say. "They wouldn't have sent them if we didn't need them. Sure, they're convenient, but not life-saving."

Emerianne takes it further. "Because Sascha's going to be hurt, when he comes back. We're going to need the water."

Ooh. Right. That's almost certainly true. "But you two still have all of those leaves and things you gathered earlier, right? And you actually know how to use them?" They both think for a moment, then nod.

"I'll go get the water," Emerianne chirps.

"Oh no you don't," I shake my head. "Not with some combination of Careers and something that's giving Careers a run for their money out there. We'll all go."

"What if they get back?"

I think for a moment, then write the number 5 on a tree trunk with my spear. "There. Five minutes. Hopefully the Careers won't barge through here and see it. Of course, if we don't go they would've run into _us_ here, so it's not really hurting anything."

Merryn and Emerianne nod in agreement, and we head to the lake as fast as they can run, taking the garden route. It's a tiny bit longer, but I'd rather skirt whatever chaos is going on deeper in the woods. The garden is a bit spooky, and I can tell that the thirteen-year-olds are a little uncomfortable. Thankfully, the carnivorous bunnies, which I honestly think the Gamemakers put there just to mess with us, seem to be sleeping, and we make it to the lake without incident.

I stand guard as the other two fill the canteens, wielding my spear, although I'm not sure what, exactly, I hoped to accomplish if something _did_ try to kill us. Still, it seems to make them feel better, so I try to look as competent as I can. Finally, the canteens are filled. I'm glad to leave. I've got a sort of bad feeling about the lake at night. As I'd hoped, there's enough excitement going on that the Gamemakers don't feel the need to come after us with anything as we lope back to the clearing, but I've got a horrible sense that they absolutely could have if they'd wanted to.

We flop down again, and the minutes drag by. The sound of the Careers has vanished, and we all jump at the _bang_ of the castle's door closing.

That is not good at all. The Careers always, always hunt at night, and something chased them inside. I think that Merryn has realized the same thing, but he wisely keeps it to himself.

There's a rustling sound behind me, and I whirl, jumpier than before. A tall, shadowy figure looms through the trees, its gait strangely lopsided. Then it changes course slightly, and I realize that there are two figures, one slightly taller than the other. The shorter one seems to be leaning on the first, and I know instantly who they are.

"Sascha!" Emerianne yells, shooting forward.

"_Shh!" _Jendra hisses frantically, speeding up until he reaches the clearing. "Whatever you do, don't yell!"

Sascha is yanked out of the shadow of the trees, and I gasp. He looks like he's been dragged to hell and back. Half his shirt is soaked in blood, along with one of the legs of his jeans. He's covered in scrapes and bruises. His hair is sticking out in every direction, and his knuckles are white around a bow that he doesn't seem to want to let go of. What scares me, though, is the fact that he looks _scared._ His eyes are darting over us, and he looks over his shoulder every few seconds.

Even Jendra looks pale. "Talk quietly," he whispers. "They're all at the door of the castle now, but they'd be more than happy to come down here. They have extremely good hearing."

"_What_ does?" Merryn hisses.

"The mutts," Sascha says hoarsely.

**Kendal Resista, District 3, 15 years old**

Borge and I dart from window to window in the castle, watching in horrified fascination as the events below unfold. It's terrifying to watch, and once again, I'm grateful that we decided to remain in the castle. Of course, now the Careers are holed up in here too, but they don't seem to want to leave the hall with the Cornucopia. Not that I blame them, of course.

"You don't think they'll come up here, do you?" Borge asks, eyes wide. "The mutts, I mean?"

"Doubt it," I reply confidently. "The Careers will keep them out. And even if they don't, all we have to do is hide."

Actually, I'm a little freaked out by the whole thing. Even up here, safe in our bright, cozy room, I still catch myself looking over my shoulder, and I'm glad I didn't decide to go it alone. The person I _really_ feel for is the Eight girl, the only one without an alliance.

Borge sighs. "And no deaths yet." He thinks about what he's just said, and looks horrified. "I mean, not that I want there to be! Just…"

I shrug. "You don't have to want them dead to want to survive yourself. I'm hoping for some cannons, too." And it's true. I want to see Mom and Dad again.

Neither of us mentions the uncomfortable point that even the two of us can't both survive. I mean, we can both come out of this arena, but only one person comes out of the second.

I dart into the brightly lit hall, running to a window near the lake and watching as the Nine girl and the Sixes fill some canteens of water.

"Um… Kendal?" Borge says slowly behind me. I turn, not entirely sure what I'm expecting. Borge turns out to be face to face with one of the people perpetually hurrying up and down the hall. The thing is, this one isn't changing course and avoiding us, as they usually do. It- he?- is standing right in front of Borge.

"What are you doing? Get out of the way!" I say, my voice a little higher than usual. Borge sidesteps, and the man-robot-mutt-thing goes on its way.

"It was looking at me. It _saw_ me. I know it did," he says.

"Nah," I say, even though I don't believe it. "Just a fluke. It dropped something, or… something." Now that I'm paying attention, though, I'm starting to notice an extremely disturbing trend. The people's eyes aren't quite flitting over me like they were before. They're not coming after me or anything, but I have the sense that they _see_ me, which definitely wasn't the case before. "As long as they don't try to hurt us," I say, reassuring myself as much as Borge, "We're fine. Just keep out of their way from now on."

**Whoops, sorry Kendal's is so short. Really, there just wasn't anything happening up in the castle. **

**Oh, and um… okay, so here's the thing. I don't want to kill any of these characters. I mean, I'm going to, but I don't want to. And nobody wants to see their character killed, so I'd much rather keep alive the characters of people who are actually reading this. So basically, are you still here? Obviously if you've reviewed recently I know you're still reading, but if you haven't made your presence known in a while, please do so, so that I can keep your tribute alive. I promise you, this isn't a plug for reviews, it's just that I honestly would rather kill as few characters whose creators are actually reading this as possible.**

**Oh, and please go read ToDT on the Foaly profile if you feel like it, because only one person has reviewed chapter 27 and it's making me sad. Now that WAS a plug for reviews. ;) Although actually I sort of lied about 28 being out by last night, seeing as I, erm, haven't actually started it yet. Whoops. And now I'm going to be gone. Oh well, I'll get around to it eventually.**


	21. Day 2: Derelict

**Meh. So I was gone all week, and I managed to write exactly one chapter. And now I'm going to have a ton of makeup work to do. :P**

**Tied Edison, District 4, 18 years old**

We blink in the sudden light, staring warily out the doors as Jasper wrestles them open. Verres visibly relaxes next to me as pale, cloud-filtered sunlight floods the massive chamber, revealing the deserted lawn outside. I can see the torn-up grass outside the door, though, where the creatures were last night. And that's not the only sign that they left. I wince as I look down at my right arm. One of the creatures, the first one to drop out of the trees, bit me, and now there's a long line of dried blood from my upper arm to my fingertips. I can move it, but it hurts.

I rub my eyes tiredly. I'm absolutely exhausted, physically and mentally. We all sat perfectly still through the night, scared to move. Every time one of us shifted, it had thrown the creatures outside into a frenzy.

"Do we hunt today?" Eliza asks, leaning against the side of the Cornucopia with her eyes closed. Her hair is bloody and tangled, and her arms are covered in long scratches.

"I say no," Verres puts in. He looks pretty bad, too. "We go to the lake, then the garden, then we sleep all day."

All three of us turn to Jasper, expecting him to object. Surprisingly, he doesn't. I realize that he must be as tired as we are, even if he doesn't show it, and the mutts gave him a few wounds to think about, too. "Fine," he says flatly. "We should wash off before we all die of infection. If the things come back out tonight, we'll hunt the kids in the castle. If not, we hunt outside."

Oh, right. The two tributes in the castle. I forgot about them. My first instinct is to feel bad for them, but then I realize that there's no way we'll actually find them, as long as they don't jump out right in front of us. The castle is huge, with plenty of places to hide. And, of course, the Gamemakers are almost definitely going to make things interesting for us no matter where we go.

Thankfully, they leave us alone as we limp to the lake. We're all wary, glancing over our shoulders constantly, although I think we're actually a little more afraid of the mutts than the other tributes. We drink from the lake, taking turns standing guard, then wade in, scrubbing blood from our skin and clothes. The wound on my arm isn't as bad as I was afraid of, and it's the worst injury between the four of us, as far as I can see.

We take our time walking to the garden, dripping as we go. I like the garden, actually. If you face exactly the right direction, the lake glimmers like it could be the ocean. And it's peaceful, too. Although I notice with surprise that it seems a little different, somehow, from yesterday. Yesterday was sunny and today is cloudy, but that's not it. It's almost like all of the flowers are… wilting? The whole place just seems drearier, although I can't quite put my fingers on how. I glance up at the castle, and notice the same effect. It stands as tall as ever, but it has a derelict, abandoned look to it. Yesterday, it looked like its occupants could have moved out yesterday. Now it looks like nobody's set foot in it for years.

Eliza's shrieked curse brings me back to earth. I turn, and my jaw drops. Eliza swings her mace like a baseball bat, and the furry shape that had been leaping for her throat goes sailing away over the tops of the orchard trees. "A freaking _bunny!"_ she spits, breathing hard.

I laugh, Verres smiles, and Jasper only blinks.

We split up, strolling around the gardens. Periodically a rustle and a mutter cuts the air as more of the rabbits attack us, but they're pretty easy to kill, apparently. None of them have come after me yet. I hope they don't. They're cute. Of course, as soon as I think that, two of them jump out at me at once. I duck, and one of them goes flying over my head. The other is met with my war hammer. I don't know where the first one goes; when I turn to meet it, it doesn't reappear. I make a point of not looking at the one that I smashed.

I come across a grove of fruit trees. I reach up to pick one, and discover, to my annoyance, that they're just a tiny bit too high for me to grab. I would go try to find something else to eat, but the berry bushes are covered in bees- not tracker jackers, I don't think, just regular bees, but I'd still prefer not to argue with them- and the only other fruit trees I can see are peaches. I hate peaches. It's like biting into a mouse.

The rest seem to agree, because we all wind up under the same tree. Eliza seems to be the only one who's light enough to climb it, so she scrambles up the trunk, throwing fruit to us. Well, she throws it to Verres and I, anyway. "At" would be a more accurate term for how she treats Jasper. I can't tell whether she's trying to be playful or spiteful, although the second seems more likely. Whichever it is, Jasper doesn't react. He snatches most of them out of the air, although I can't quite muffle a snort when one bounces off his head, which earns me a glare. I glare right back, although I'm not really sure why, or whether it's a good idea. Probably not.

Eventually, we straggle back toward the castle. We cross the lawn, taking our time, and I glance toward the woods. I almost freeze on the spot when I see a face. It's only there for a split second, but it's definitely there. Caramel skin, dark brown hair and eyes, a little skinny- the District Eight boy, for sure. And I know he saw me look at him.

And if we caught him, I know that the others could make him tell us where his alliance is, one way or the other. We could easily find them and kill them all. Five down, one to go, before I would have survived this arena, at least. Halfway to returning home, to sending my siblings to school...

But I hesitate, staring in the direction that the face vanished. Because it doesn't seem _right._ Nothing in these Games is right, I know. But I still can't bring myself to directly cause five deaths. I can't.

So I follow the rest silently, not sure whether I'm proud or ashamed. What am I going to do when I finally have to kill to win, or to defend myself? Because I'm not a murderer, I know that for sure now. And I'm sort of happy to know it, I guess. I decide that I won't kill unless I absolutely can't avoid it. If we find any tributes, I'll just let the rest reach them first. It's not a perfect solution. It puts me in danger, and when I really think about it, I'm not really doing the other tributes any favors. But it's all I can do.

**Emerianne Rivkin, District 6, 13 years old**

I wake up the next morning amazed that I ever fell asleep. I know, of course, that there was some kind of mutt out there last night, but Jendra and Sascha are the only ones who saw it. Jendra doesn't want to describe it to me, and he told me not to ask Sascha. I guess he doesn't want to scare me, and I get why he doesn't want to make Sascha talk about it, whatever it is. But that means that it's left to my imagination, and I think I'm probably coming up with far worse creatures than the Gamemakers ever could.

Whatever it was, it had sharp teeth. Sascha is still asleep, but the torn-up collar of his shirt has slipped to the side, and I can see the marks that the mutt left along the side of his neck and down onto his shoulder. Some kind of vampire? What if it's something contagious, and now Sascha's going to turn into a... something? I don't think I could treat that with a few leaves Merryn and I found throughout the arena. Actually, we haven't even tried to use them yet. He practically passed out as soon as Jendra let go of him last night, and Diana was afraid to let us touch him until he woke up. But that was hours ago, and he's still sprawled on his back on the ground. I don't know whether he's asleep or unconscious. I know he was exhausted when Jendra dragged him in last night, and half his skin is covered in scrapes and bruises. There's even a purple bruise across his neck, and another set of teeth marks in his leg.

I look at the sad little pile of leaves lying between Merryn and I in the early morning light. Some for snake venom... but snakes don't have that many teeth. Some that are antibacterial, which I guess could help. And a frustratingly large number that, no matter how hard I try, I simply can't remember.

Jendra slouches into the clearing, carrying all five canteens. I can see how tired he is. He definitely didn't sleep, which scares me, because he saw the mutts, and if _he's_ that scared of them...

We sit in silence for a while, all of us occasionally glancing at Sascha, but he still doesn't move. I wonder for the first time if he might be hurt worse than I had though. How much blood did he lose when the whatever-it-was bit him? What if it was poisonous?

"Do you think the Careers will be out today?" Merryn asks quietly, staring at his sneakers, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Diana sighs. "Maybe. Maybe not. If they were fighting the mutts all night, they might have decided to sleep today."

"Are the mutts going to come back out tonight?" I ask. Diana and Jendra exchange glances.

"No way to know," Jendra shrugs. "They might've been a one-time Gamemaker trick, or they might be a part of the arena."

"What do we do if they do?" Merryn asks, sounding a little frustrated. "We can't get into the castle, but only two of us can use distance weapons and one of them is ripped to shreds!"

Neither of the older kids seems to know how to answer him. "We could climb trees," Diana suggests. She turns to Jendra. "Did they look like they could climb?"

I realize that he must have described the mutts to her in detail. He looks a little uncomfortable. "I don't know," he says. "Maybe. I don't know if they'd be able to find us in the leaves. But it would be harder to move without making noise..."

"Worth a shot," Diana replies.

So I know they hunt by sound, after what Jendra just said and what he said last night. I know they have sharp teeth. And nails, too, I realize, looking at the scratches on Sascha's face. They might be able to climb. Whatever they are, I do _not _want to run into one.

Finally, Sascha wakes up. He sits up slowly, blinking and rubbing his head. Suddenly, he whirls, and finds himself face-to-face with me, since I was sitting behind him. His green eyes widen, and his hand shoots to his bow, before he wakes up fully.

"Sorry," he mutters. But he's still jumpy, glancing around the clearing when he doesn't think anyone is looking. But of course, we're all watching him, we're just trying to act like we're not. Nobody seems to know what to say.

"How's your shoulder?" Diana finally asks. Sascha looks down, yanking his collar to the side. His eyes widen, and he curses softly.

"You should wash it," I put in. Of everything the woman at the first aid booth told me during training, that's what I remember: Always clean the wound, or it will get infected.

He nods slowly. "Probably. Yeah." But he still looks sort of dazed.

"I'll go too. Come on," Jendra says, rising to his feet. Sascha nods again, following him from the clearing. I notice that he still clutches the bow, and he keeps an arrow notched to it, too. He's limping, although not as much as before.

Diana takes a deep breath as soon as they vanish into the trees, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"What?" Merryn asks. I notice that he's been silent this entire time.

Diana seems to be talking more to herself than him when she replies. "He's not coming back from that. Not for a while, at least. What do we do if the mutts come after us tonight? He's going to panic."

I think about that. Sascha, panic? I could never have imagined that a few days ago. But now... I don't know. What if she's right? And I can see him sort of demoted in her mind. I know that Diana is deliberately protecting Merryn and I, and I'm thankful for it. She saw Jendra as her equal, her ally, and Sascha as sort of something in between. Not someone she could rely on- although to be honest, I wouldn't have, either- but not someone she had to protect, either. But that doesn't seem to be the case anymore. And I _still_ don't know what happened to him.

Soon, the boys come back. Sascha looks a lot better now that he's not covered in blood, but now I can see what Diana sees. He's tense and wary, and can't seem to stop looking over his shoulder. He's got his bow in a death grip, and I don't think he's ever going to let go of it.

But I can see, too, that he's making an effort. "Any cannons so far?" he asks, wincing as he sinks to the ground.

"Nope," Jendra replies, sprawling next to him. "Although the Careers came pretty close."

"To causing the cannon shots or to being the cannon shots?"

"Being them."

"They ran into the mutts?" His voice almost cracks, but he gets the question out.

"Yeah."

"So they came out of the tunnel, then?"

Oops. I can see Jendra wince mentally as he realizes his mistake. Still, Sascha looks calm enough, although I can tell Jendra is regretting letting him figure that out. "Yeah. But I'm sure they-"

"It's fine," Sascha cuts him off. "They can come after me all they want, as long as it's not underground." I can't tell whether he's telling the truth or trying to make Jendra feel better. "Besides, I was alone last time." He smiles weakly.

Well, that wasn't as bad as it could have been, I guess.

We spend a while sitting in silence, but eventually start talking. The conversation gets a little more comfortable as it goes on, until it reaches the point where we're shushing each other constantly because we're getting so loud. Sascha's not quite as outspoken as usual, but he's talking, at least.

"Can you still shoot?" Diana asks eventually. I realize that it's a valid question. He still won't let go of his bow, but he hasn't actually fired it.

"Let's see," he says, standing up. He pulls an arrow from his back, notching it to the string. When he pulls his right arm back, though, the left one, the one the mutt bit, shakes, and he grits his teeth, letting the arrow go a little sooner than he usually would in training. It sticks in the tree he was aiming at, but he shakes his head. "I was aiming higher than that. And it didn't hit as hard, either."

"Don't worry about it," Jendra says. "It's been less than a day."

Maybe. But that still means that now I'm the only one who can really use a distance weapon right now, and I don't particularly like it. I'd really rather not be forced to kill anybody, but if the Careers were to show up right now, I don't think I'd have a choice. I tap the hilt of one of my knives thoughtfully. I guess it would be a _little_ different if it were Careers trying to kill my friends and I. Maybe, just maybe, I would be able to kill.

**I apologize for Tied's being short, too. There really just wasn't much going on with the Career pack at the moment. I'm going to try to come back to the people who got shorter POVs sooner to try to even it out a bit, although like I said, I don't really plan ahead all too well and there's no way it's going to turn out entirely fair.**


	22. Day 3, Part 1: Hovercraft

**It's been a little longer than usual, sorry. I'm still here, I'm just trying to give poor chickenwinglegolas, who, unlike yours truly, actually has a life, a chance to catch up. Oh, and just FYI: This is not supposed to be slash. This, my friends, is a bromance. XD**

**Jendra Reeseburn, District 8, 16 years old**

I wake up shivering as the sun glows dimly through the clouds, just beginning to rise above the horizon. The weather has gotten even worse. There's a gloomy drizzle, which seems to be worsening by the second, plastering my T-shirt to my skin. Not the most comfortable thing when the wind's picked up, too.

And I'm completely exhausted. Every time I close my eyes- and sometimes when they're open, too- I see the mutts. I never came face-to-face with one, of course, slipping through the woods while I looked for Sascha. But I still saw them, needle-toothed and pale, scuttling through the trees. I remember closing my eyes, pressing my back into the mossy tree trunks and praying to who-knows-what not to get ripped apart. Cringing at the constant sound of twigs snapping, branches rustling and shaking above me, expecting teeth to sink into me at any moment.

I have no idea how Sascha sleeps. Then I realize, he doesn't, not since he passed out yesterday. I can see his hunched back on the other side of the clearing. His head is hanging, and, of course, he's still holding his bow. He jumps, whipping around, and almost shoots me when I sit up.

"Calm down," I mutter, rubbing my eyes and shaking water out of my hair. "Do I look like a mutt to you? I'd rather not die of friendly fire, thanks."

"Sorry," Sascha whispers back, trying not to wake the rest up. I rise to my feet, stepping over Emerianne and sitting next to him so that we don't have to whisper-yell across the clearing. Somehow, he looks even worse than before, which is saying something. Well, not quite as bad as when I first found him, but still. His hair sticks out in every direction, and he has circles under his eyes. The purple bruise across his neck seems even darker than before. His head droops every few seconds, and he jerks it back up, constantly scanning the trees and turning to look behind him. I scoot around until we're sitting back-to-back.

"There. Now nothing can sneak up on you." I think for a moment, then add, "You big chicken." I'm kidding, obviously. I realize a second later that maybe now isn't the time to be teasing him, but he laughs quietly.

"Ah, shut up. How many mutts d'you think _you_ could shoot?"

I shiver involuntarily, but snark back for all I'm worth. "That's not fair. I can't shoot, genius. But I bet I could beat more of them in a fistfight than you could."

Sascha laughs out loud, clapping a hand over his mouth as Merryn rolls over and mutters something about Rubidium. "Fistfight the mutts. Riiight. Good luck with that. You'd lose a hand, closely followed by your head, trust me. I wrestled a few and you can see how well _that_ went." He pauses for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is small. "You have no idea how fast they move."

We sit in awkward silence for a long time. My first instinct is to say something falsely cheery, but Sascha would call it in a second, and that just seems like a betrayal, anyway.

Diana's a deliberate optimist in front of the little kids. It's a good thing, I just don't have the willpower to cheer people up when I'm feeling miserable myself. Which I am right now, with cold rain dripping down my back, my ally and friend sitting behind me, dog-tired but scared to sleep, and four Careers out there somewhere, not to mention those goddamned mutts… the point being, false optimism doesn't seem possible or advisable.

"You know, maybe the Careers will stay inside because of the rain," I finally comment. It _is_ optimistic, but not really falsely so, because I actually think it's a possibility. Careers don't like to get wet any more than anyone else, I figure.

There's no reply. For one crazy moment I think that the mutts have somehow killed him, right behind me, which is of course completely ridiculous, but seems exactly like something that the Gamemakers would do if they could swing it. But no. Sascha's back slumps against mine, and I can tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he's finally asleep.

Well, _shoot._ I blink bemusedly, blowing water off my upper lip. Spending the next few hours before the rest wake up, sitting completely still in the freezing rain, hadn't exactly been the plan. But I feel bad to move and wake him, if he's really been up all night, afraid of the mutts showing up if he fell asleep. Honestly. This was _not_ in the job description.

But of course, I do it, because I'm such a nice freaking person. I huddle miserably, trying not to shiver, hoping that it's rain and not drool dripping down my neck.

Later- I'm not sure how much time goes by- I'm still sitting there. At least it's a little warmer now. I toss Rae's toy hovercraft in the air, catching it. I feel bad for taking it as my token, since it's unlikely I'll get to give it back, but I couldn't exactly refuse when he offered it to me in the Justice Building. Mika had asked if I had the bracelet made of the yarn my mom spun, and I had remembered I left it in my room. So Rae had wordlessly held out the hovercraft. I wonder if he really understood that I was going to die. I think he did. And that, I can't stand to think about. The kid's seven. He shouldn't even be able to comprehend the concept of death.

So I think about everybody else's token. Diana's got a carved rabbit on a thong around her neck. Sascha mentioned that her family makes furniture, so I assume she must have either carved it herself, or someone gave it to her. One of her parents, maybe. Merryn has a corked vial on a chain. I've never asked him what's in it. It couldn't be anything too dangerous, since it had to get past the Board, but I've got a feeling it could be pretty deadly in his hands even if they didn't realize it. I have no idea what Emerianne's token is, but I saw a flash of silver and white in her hands once before she stuck it in her pocket. And Sascha has a silvery-grey necklace looped twice around his neck, without any charm or anything on it.

I wonder if the Careers have tokens, too? I guess they want to remember their Districts as much as anybody, don't they? I honestly don't get the whole Career thing. Even if they do train as hard as they possibly can, become as deadly as they can possibly be, until they're absolutely certain they can win… does it ever occur to them that there are five other people who are equally certain, who have trained just as hard? All the Careers have to think they can win, but are their chances really that much better than the rest of ours?

The sound of muffled laughter snaps me out of it. I come back to Earth, and see Emerianne clapping both hands over her mouth and shaking with laughter.

"How long have you been sitting there?" she gasps out. "You're such a softie."

I shoot her an indignant look. "I am _not._"

"Will you come to the lake with me?" she asks, choosing to ignore my halfhearted glare. "I'm thirsty."

I sigh. "I'd love to, but if I move we'll probably both get shot by William Tell there."

"Nah," she says, scooting over to us. And before I can stop her, she shoves Sascha's shoulder. I wince, expecting an arrow through the back of the neck or something. But instead, he just falls over onto his side, still snoring. Emerianne laughs. "See? If he's really _that_ tired it'd take a lot to wake him up."

"You think?" I mutter, standing up and stretching. "Try hissing and see what happens."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Come on." I scratch the word _lake_ into the dirt right next to Diana, then turn and lope out of the clearing, Emerianne behind me.

**Jeez. I meant to jam three POVs into this chapter. I promise you some actual action next time. And my update rate is probably going to be more along the lines of two or three times a week now, rather than once a day, since I'm working on another story and CWL is lagging spectacularly. ;) So you can blame her for that.**

**"She shoves Sascha's shoulder." Try saying that five times fast.**


	23. Day 3, Part 2: Cold

**Yup, still alive over here. Apologies once again. A combination of too many tests, me starting another fic, and the fact that CWL updates slower than molasses going uphill on a freezing winter day.**

**Verres Pulcher, District 4, 18 years old**

It's still dark when I wake up. The castle is drafty and cold, and I can hear rain drumming on the wooden doors. Or at least I hope it's rain.

I sit up slowly, climbing to my feet. I should try to get back to sleep, I guess, but I don't think I'd be able to. We haven't posted a guard, relying on the heavy doors and the fact that the Threes are scared to death of us to keep us alive. So I resign myself to pacing back and forth for the next hour or so, until the rest wake up.

I take a step forward and freeze. I can sense someone watching me. I can hear Tied's slow breathing next to me, and I see a dark shape that I think is Eliza a few feet away. Which leaves…

"Not planning on breaking the alliance already, were you?" asks Jasper from a few feet away. I turn, but the shadows in his corner of the room are so deep that I can't see him. I shrug, then realize that he probably can't see me either. The weird thing is, I've been completely silent. What has he been doing, lying awake and monitoring our breathing?

Okay, so maybe Jasper creeps me out just a little bit.

"Not quite yet," I reply conversationally. "Next arena, maybe."

I can't see him, but I get the feeling he nods understandingly. "Hmm. Is that the best strategy?"

... What? "What do you mean?" I ask out loud, even though I'm quite sure I know exactly what he means.

He laughs softly. "What do you think is going to happen at the Cornucopia in the next arena?"

It's a good question, actually. I know what _my_ plan is- run to the Cornucopia, grab a spear, and take out any surviving Careers while they're distracted with the other tributes. Because with only twelve tributes left, minus however many get taken out at the Bloodbath, there's no way a big pack of us would keep together for any amount of time. But of course, it's a pretty good bet that if I've had that idea, Jasper came to the same conclusion a long time ago. Or a better one.

"I don't know," I say, trying not to betray too much.

"I do."

Well, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to _that_. "So you're going to go it alone in the next arena?" I ask. "And... any particular reason you're telling me that?"

A tiny bit of dim light comes in through a narrow window, and I think that I see him shrug. "You would have guessed."

True enough, I suppose. But still. That was a weird thing to do, unless he doesn't think I'll _be_ in the next arena. In which case he just told me that he intends to betray me in this one. But then wouldn't he have realized I'd figure that out? So why did he..?

Ah, screw it. I already knew I had to watch my back. And if he wants to mess with me, maybe I'll mess with him some, too.

"Guess so," I reply. Then, after a while, I add, "I wonder if Pictrix and Catilina are watching." Now, I might not be particularly perceptive, but I know that this will have an effect. Really, the only reason I know is because Jasper is usually _so_ hard to read that any small slip he makes is glaringly obvious. And he certainly has, and does, slip whenever Tied or I mention our families.

His face is still unreadable in the shadows, but I can sense that he's sneering. "A lot of good that will do you."

I grin. Because maybe, just maybe, I'm the slightest bit intimidated by Jasper. And it's not a feeling I'm used to, or like. So maybe I'm sort of jumping at a chance to take him down a peg. "Sure it does," I reply. "You wouldn't believe how much it helps, knowing there's someone cheering you on."

And he doesn't leap for my throat. He doesn't show any obvious sign of emotion. But for a split second, his breath catches, and I can tell that I've cut him pretty deeply.

"Tied! Eliza!" he barks suddenly, and I jump at the loud noise. "Time to go." Tied mumbles something, sitting up halfheartedly. Eliza is awake instantly, on her feet and wielding her mace, before she realizes that there is no threat and calms down. She glares, but doesn't say anything. Tied climbs to her feet clumsily, yawning, clearly still half-asleep. Jasper doesn't look at me as he shoves the doors open by himself, ramming them furiously with his shoulder.

Temper, temper.

We troop outside, and I groan. The Gamemakers seem to be making the weather steadily worse. The first day was pleasant and sunny, yesterday was cloudy and brisk, and today is rainy and freezing cold. But there isn't any extra clothing or anything, so we're all shivering in our T-shirts. Eliza, the smallest, seems to be the most affected, jumping up and down in place and muttering to herself, trying to keep her long hair from whipping all over the place in the breeze. It's not a strong wind, but it's not exactly helpful when you're soaking wet and freezing.

Jasper, of course, isn't at all bothered, either by our discomfort or by the cold itself. In fact, when he finally makes eye contact with me, I think I see a mocking gleam in his eye. I glare back, but of course he ignores me.

"We're hunting. Now," he says coldly. "We'll stop at the garden later." Who, exactly, appointed him leader? But I don't argue with him, seeing as it's the third day and nobody's dead yet. We decide to go to the lake, then along the edge of the orchard and the woods.

Jasper lopes off, his long saber drawn, and Tied follows him stolidly. Eliza turns to me, raising a questioning eyebrow. I roll my eyes in return, jogging after them, and she does the same.

We follow the path that Jasper has chosen, each of us trying not to act completely miserable. But we are. We haven't seen anyone, not a peep, and it's _freezing._ I doubt I could throw my spear straight even if we _did _find anybody, my fingers are so cold. The rain is sheeting down by now, and I can barely see ten feet in front of me. I'll be lucky not to walk head-on into a tree, not to mention kill someone.

And then, suddenly, luck is with us.

Eliza, Jasper, and I freeze instinctively. A second later, I lunge forward and grab Tied's arm, gesturing for her to be quiet. Her eyes go wide, but she nods after a moment.

"Really?" a bright voice says. "That's sad. My mentor isn't nearly that old. He's my best friend's brother." I don't recognize the voice, but Jasper must, because he looks vaguely disappointed. This must not be a kill that he's particularly interested in. But still, he begins creeping forward, slipping through the trees toward the voice. He hasn't bothered to gesture for us to follow him, or not to. I shrug and roll my eyes, following him, and seeing Eliza and Tied do the same. I'm actually thankful for the rain now. The racket that it makes on the leaves will conceal all the noise she makes.

"Your poor friend," someone else replies. A boy's voice this time. Too deep to be the Six boy, but aside from that I can't tell.

Jasper turns toward us slowly, raising his eyebrow in an _Are we going to do this or not?_ sort of way. Eliza and I grin, hefting our weapons. I'm not all that sure that Tied is paying attention, but Jasper doesn't seem concerned with whether she's coming with us or not. He starts moving again, getting closer to the voices, not even checking to make sure we're coming. He's starting to grate on my nerves more and more, but now isn't the time to confront him, I don't think.

Jasper vanishes around a few tree trunks. Eliza and I are right on his tail. Just before we get him back in sight, there's a high-pitched scream and a yell of fury, then Jasper's grim, low laugh.

**Borge Limbell, District 3, 14 years old**

The arena is decaying.

I didn't believe it at first. I thought it was a coincidence, or my imagination, or... _something._ I don't know. But I can't ignore it anymore. The weather: sunny the first day, then cloudy, now this. The food: fresh on day one, then a bit stale, now barely edible. The castle is getting dirtier, dustier, older-looking; stones crumble from the walls. I can see the garden and the woods from the window. The plants are wilting and dying; the lake is getting dark and murky. I thought I saw huge ripples in it a few times, but I couldn't be sure through the rain.

And the people. That's what scares me. Yesterday, Kendal had managed to convince me that they weren't really looking at us; that it was all in my head. But even she can't deny it anymore. Every time we show our faces in the hallway, they turn to look at us as they walk by. And not just glances like yesterday, either. They narrow their eyes, glaring at us like we disgust them. Of the two of us, only Kendal is willing to go into the hall and take the food from them.

She creeps forward, shrinking under their accusing stares. As she approaches one of the people, a small woman, the woman stops. She faces Kendal down, like she's daring her to take the food. Kendal reaches forward tentatively. The woman bares her teeth as Kendal's fingers touch the tray. My eyes widen, but the woman only bumps her with her shoulder, giving her one last angry look before continuing down the hallway.

Kendal scrambles back into our little room, her face unusually pale. "This is getting really, really weird," she whispers hoarsely. I nod wordlessly in agreement, not sure I could add much to that. She walks over to the wall, kicking at it idly, and a chunk of masonry chips off. Kendal's face twists into a scowl, and she picks it up, throwing it out the thin window as hard as the can. I wish that the window wasn't completely open. We aren't getting rained on like the rest of the tributes, but we're as cold as any of them. We could start a fire in the fireplace, I suppose, but for some reason neither one of us has suggested it. I guess just having a fire around would make us nervous.

"What do we _do?_" Kendal groans, pacing around the room frantically. "I'm going to go insane in here. But we can't leave. The people will stop us. And the Careers, and those... _things_ that were out the other night..." Her voice is rising, almost hysterical. "And even if we hide out in here, if nothing happens to us, there's still the second arena. At least one of us is going to die, Borge," she says, her voice almost a sob.

I'm completely lost. Honestly, I'm close to breaking down in tears myself. We've had the easiest time of anybody, I guess, up here in the castle. But really, that almost makes it harder. We've been left up here alone, with nothing to do but think and think about our impending deaths. We're completely helpless. It's like sitting on a track, watching the train bear down on me and feeling the rumble in my chest, but I can't run away. I can't fight it. I'm simply keeping a mental countdown, calculating my odds every day, watching as they shorten.

A suit of armor stands in the corner, a battleaxe clutched in his metal gloves. His fearsome helmet seems to be grinning evilly, like he can't wait to bring the axe down on our necks. He tightens his fingers around it, shifting his weight as he heaves it into the air. Metal joints screech as he advances toward me. I stumble backwards, my eyes wide with terror, staring into the blank darkness in his visor where his eyes should be. And suddenly, he's in front of me, _right_ in front of me. I look down. I can't look into the darkness in his helmet. I see the axe gleam out of the corner of my eye, whipping out of my line of vision and above my head...

And then I'm lying on my face on the stone floor, my forehead throbbing. Great. I must have fallen asleep, again. Another blow to the head, just what I needed. I sit up, rubbing the sore spot and blinking dazedly. Kendal is staring straight at me, but for once, I think I'm paying more attention than she is. I don't think she even noticed me fall. Her gaze goes right through me, and I think she's shaking. The suit of armor is directly over her shoulder, and I find that I still can't look at the space under its visor. In fact, looking at the metal shell at all makes me nervous. Now that I've noticed it, I can feel its malevolent gaze on me. I don't want it in the room, but I'm not nearly brave enough to move it, and the small shred of pride I have won't let me ask Kendal to do it.

Kendal. Right. She's still standing there, and I force myself to ignore my new demon for a moment to see if I can help her. "What's wrong?" I ask, even though she's made that quite clear.

She stares blankly ahead for another moment, then blinks suddenly. She bows her head, closing her eyes for a long time. When she opens them again, the blank look is gone, but she still looks much more fragile than before. "Sorry," she says calmly, rubbing one of her temples and sinking into the couch in front of the cold fireplace. She's sat on the end farthest from the knight with the axe. I steel myself and sit next to her, the suit of armor looming in my peripheral vision. I can't look at it. But I can't turn my back on it, either.

That's the thing with the Hunger Games. In any other situation, I'd tell myself to get over it, that nothing was going to happen. But here, I can't get rid of that terrible little "what if?" What if the knight is one of the Gamemaker tricks? What if my nightmare came true? Considering that I only noticed the armor a few minutes ago, I'm completely terrified of it now.

The knight in this room, the people in the rest of the castle, the Careers and the mutts outside. And even if we survive, we'll only have the other arena to look forward to. The one that can only have one Victor.

I was right. We can't escape. We can only watch and wait as our deaths approach.

**Yep, we're finally getting somewhere. Poor Borge; he came out a bit unintentionally emo. XD Ah well, the Games'll do that to you, huh? Reviews much appreciated, since this update took so long I completely lost my train of thought and I'm afraid I royally screwed this up.**


	24. Day 3, Part 3: Blood

**Okay, so apparently I made the thing with the knight a little confusing in the last chapter. I tried to fix it, but what basically happened is this: The knight really does exist, but Borge fell asleep while he was looking at it and dreamed that it came alive. So the knight hasn't actually moved or anything, but Borge is paranoid that it might. And no, I haven't forgotten about Ariele, she's just being smart and laying low at the moment. ;)**

**Diana Renald, District 9, 17 years old**

My eyelids flutter, and I mumble something, shifting and trying to escape the cold rain falling on my face. I sit up with a yawn, stretching and muttering to myself. I wish that there had been some kind of survival gear in the Cornucopia. Sleeping on the hard ground was already a pain when the weather was good, and it's miserable now.

I comb my long, dark brown hair with my fingers, re-braiding it and muttering grumpily to myself. I'm not a morning person at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times.

"Morning," Merryn's voice greets me. He's leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. Or at least I think they are. The poor boy's glasses have fogged up, making it hard to tell. I mumble a reply, rising to my feet and noting with distaste that I'm soaked to the skin and my back is covered in mud. Our voices rouse Sascha, who is flopped on his side at the edge of the clearing, facing away from us. I sigh, but don't say anything, as he goes through his now-standard routine of sitting bolt upright like someone stuck him with a pin, pointing his bow in every direction, then glancing sheepishly at us when he realizes that there's nothing trying to murder him.

"Where are Jendra and Emerianne?" I ask, puzzled. I feel a flutter of worry in my stomach, but tell myself I'm being unreasonable. There's no sign of a fight or anything. I'm sure everything is fine.

"They were here before," Sascha says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I was talking to Jendra before I fell asleep."

Merryn shrugs. "Probably went to the orchard or the lake or something. They'll be back soon." I nod in agreement, settling my back against a tree, where there's at least a bit of shelter from the rain. We can't really leave, since the two will be looking for us here, and besides, the only other shelter in the arena is the castle.

A few minutes later, just when I'm starting to become really worried, I hear Emerianne scream.

Oh, no. No no no.

I jump to my feet, tightening my fingers around my spear. Merryn looks frozen, staring straight ahead in horror, but Sascha is stumbling to his feet. "Stay _here,_" I hiss, knowing that he's in no shape for a fight. He looks at me in shock, but I don't have time. I turn and sprint out of the clearing in the direction of the scream. I can hear yelling now, and another agonized cry. Jendra. Oh, no. No…

I feel the adrenaline in my veins. More than grief, I feel anger. No one messes with my alliance. I don't give a damn if that's the entire Career pack or the mutts that got Sascha; I'm going to kill every last one of them.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and whirl to see Sascha running just behind me, limping. The only weapon he has is a bow, though, and he's already proven that he can barely shoot it. He's stumbling exhaustedly as he runs, like he's about to fall flat on his face at any moment, and I know that if he gets into the fight he'll only be a liability.

"I said stay in the clearing!" I snarl, but he ignores me. I don't have a choice. I don't want to do it, but I do. I swing my spear handle, thwacking him solidly on the temple. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but hard enough that he crumples to the ground, blinking dazedly.

I keep running without looking back, following the sound of voices. I haven't heard any cannons yet. Maybe I can still save them. And if not, I'm going to kill whoever's responsible.

**Jasper Johar, District 2, 18 years old**

It's the boy who sees me first. I mentally scroll through everything I know about him in a split second. Jendra Reeseburn. District 8. Sixteen years old. Big family. No weapons or survival experience. Part of the Six-Eight-Nine alliance. Fights with his fists, unarmed.

The girl's back is to me. Emerianne Rivkin. District 6. Thirteen years old. Another big family. Fights with throwing knives. Same alliance. Armed with knives.

I decide that the girl is the bigger threat, since she's armed. The boy's eyes widen as I step from the trees behind her. He opens his mouth to warn her, but he's far too slow. My saber slashes across her back, severing the knife belt she's thrown over her shoulder, and leaving a long cut for good measure. Without looking down, I kick the knives into the woods behind me. The girl falls with a piercing scream, and the boy launches himself at me with a furious yell.

Well. That was unexpected. I had actually been dreading the inevitable chase through the woods when he turned and ran, so this should save some time.

While the boy charges across the clearing, I take a moment to check my surroundings, for just in case Verres or Eliza decided to take advantage of my momentary distraction. If they have, I wish them the best of luck with that. They should know by now that I'm never distracted. But no, they've done the smart thing. The other three Careers have formed a sort of ring around the clearing, weapons raised, ready to stop the boy if he decides to make a run for it. Unnecessary, considering that I'm going to kill him, but also helpful because it means I don't have to watch my back against them.

Since I haven't moved, the boy obviously thinks that I'm going to stand still and let him come to me. He's wrong. When he's a few feet away, I suddenly step over the fallen girl, so that we're face-to-face. His eyes widen in shock; he wasn't expecting that. Of course not. They never are.

He recovers impressively quickly, pulling his arm back and swinging at my face. I realize with surprise that I have made a mistake. My long saber is useless in close proximity like this. I sneer, hoping that Vaila hasn't noticed my blunder, and correct it as fast as I can. My own hand shoots forward, and I catch the boy's wrist an inch from my face. His jaw drops in astonishment, before he tries to punch me with his other hand. I catch it with the hand holding my saber.

I can see the fury leave his dark brown eyes, replaced by terror. I honestly don't understand why he didn't run while he had the chance. He twists and thrashes in vain, struggling to escape my grip on his wrists, his breath ragged in his throat as he begins to panic.

I have decided on the most efficient way to kill him. I will throw him to the ground, and slit his throat with my saber before he can stand. A quick, relatively painless death; better than he could have hoped for, really.

At least, that's my intention. I sweep my leg behind him, kicking the backs of his knees and knocking his legs out from under him so that only my hold on his wrists is holding him up. I am about to drop him, when suddenly his eyes widen in pain and I am covered in blood.

Unexpected. I'm honestly confused for a moment, before I realize what has happened. Verres' spear point protrudes from the boy's chest, driven into him so hard that it is almost touching my shirt.

My first reaction is to be genuinely impressed; it takes a lot of strength to stab someone clean through. But then the boy's cannon fires, and I drop him in disgust, realizing that I have been robbed of a kill. And, by extension, sponsors. I know that the Capitol betting pool uses complex algorithms, factoring in kills, training scores, alliances, supplies, location, et cetera to determine the front-running tributes at any given time. This kill would almost certainly have put me in the lead, but instead, it is probably Verres who will be reaping those sponsoring dollars now.

I weigh my options. If I kill him now, there is a slight chance that Eliza would help one or the other of us, but most likely she would just watch. Tied might feel some sort of District loyalty to him, however, and although I know that I'm a superior fighter to either of the District Fours, I'm not confident enough in my chances against both of them at once to risk it.

I'm still deciding how to react when the decision is made for me. Something shoots out of the underbrush with incredible speed, slamming into Verres so hard that he stumbles. I catch sight of a long, dark braid. Diana Renald. District 9. Seventeen years old. No weapons experience, minimal survival experience. Same alliance. Armed with a spear.

I watch interestedly as she drives said spear through Verres' throat, screaming at the top of her lungs.

He crumples to the ground, blood bubbling from the wound. The girl rips the spear out of his neck, and his eyes widen in agony. He opens his mouth to scream, but only blood comes out.

Oh dear. Poor Merenda.

As Verres' cannon fires, the girl falls into a crouch, wielding her weapon. I can tell that she is inexperienced, but my eyebrows rise when I realize that she is a genuine berserker. Interesting. She would have done well in District 2.

She turns to me, breathing hard. I assume that she probably saw me trap Reeseburn, and has decided that I, too, am responsible for his death. I balance lightly on the balls of my feet, prepared to strike or dodge. She is a bigger threat than the boy was, actually, and I treat her as a legitimate opponent.

The girl snarls like a wild animal, actually baring her teeth as she launches herself at me, far faster than I had expected. I'm forced to dart backwards, dodging her as she slashes the spear at me. Eliza lounges against a tree, snickering. Tied is frozen, staring dumbly at the two bodies on the ground.

I jump back to evade another wild strike, hissing when I realize that the girl has actually managed to draw blood. It's only a scratch on my arm, but a bit of a blow to my pride. I narrow my eyes, going on the offensive. She doesn't even try to block me, only attacking me twice as hard. I'm actually hard-pressed to defend myself, and am finding it difficult to get a good strike in. But I know that I only need to be patient. Not only is she untrained, she's essentially insane at the moment. She'll make a mistake soon enough.

She slashes. I jump backwards, and her spear point knocks some bark off a tree. She growls, and I parry another strike, then another. Finally, my chance arrives. The girl is absolutely furious by now, and I'm frankly amazed that I haven't dropped dead just from the look that she's giving me. She charges straight at me, holding the spear like a lance. At the last moment, I dodge aside, letting her run straight onto my saber. Her eyes widen, and she gasps.

And she still doesn't fall.

I feel my eyes widen against my will, and I gulp. She turns on me again, and I back up, unarmed. The girl stumbles toward me, until finally, she crumples to the ground and a cannon fires.

I blink in the sudden silence, struggling to maintain my composure. I had been genuinely scared, which… well… scared me. I'm not supposed to _be_ scared. What was going on?

"You should see the look on your face," says a voice behind me. I turn to see Eliza crossing the clearing nonchalantly. A shadow passes over her face when she looks down at Verres' body, which makes me even happier that he's dead. If the two of them were friends, it wouldn't have been long before they turned on me.

I sneer at her. "You didn't exactly help."

She shrugs ironically, treading casually on the District 8 boy's hand. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

I ignore her, wrenching my saber out of the girl's stomach. It occurs to me suddenly that no cannon ever fired for the first girl I struck, the one from Six. I whirl, glancing at the spot where she fell, and see only a few drops of blood. Her knife belt, however, is still there, so I'm not particularly concerned. Without them, she's the weakest tribute in the arena. We'll find her eventually.

I lope out of the clearing silently, Eliza and Tied following. A moment later, I hear the rustle as the hovercraft picks up the three bodies. Three people dead in as many minutes. Not bad.

Halfway there. Well, halfway to halfway, anyway.

**Ugh. I really, really, REALLY didn't want to do that. I'm sorry for making the deaths so un-tragic. It's just that since we were in Jasper's POV at the time, and he wasn't exactly crushed by them, it was a bit difficult to make them sad. A moment of silence for Verres Pulcher, who never got to propose to his girlfriend, and Diana Renald, whose brothers won't have her to look out for them anymore. :'( **

**I love that it took me nine chapters to actually kill anyone. I admit it, I've been stalling, but I'm over it now.**


	25. Day 3, Part 4: Left

**Sorry if this is a really short chapter. This is the last POV for day 3, so I can't really add anyone else.**

**Merryn Circa, District 6, 13 years old**

It's the first cannon that finally jolts me back into reality. I jump to my feet, taking a deep breath and brushing my hair out of my eyes. Diana and Sascha have both run off into the woods, leaving me here alone in the clearing.

I'm at a total loss as to what to do. I can't just sit here while my entire alliance gets massacred, but how in the world could I help? I glance down at the small knife in my belt, trying to imagine myself facing down a Career with it. The idea is laughable.

I finally give up and start running toward the voices. I hate going into a situation without a plan like this, but I don't really see any other option.

A cannon fires, and I wince. I know, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, that either Emerianne, Jendra, or Diana is probably dead. I pass Sascha, who is blinking dazedly on the ground. His face is a strange combination of angry and confused, but he's breathing, so I don't stop.

Another cannon.

I duck a low-hanging tree branch and dive into the underbrush. It was leafy and green on the first day, but now it's dry and brown, barely thick enough to conceal me. As soon as the scene hits my eyes, I have to look down and cover my mouth to prevent a moan from escaping my lips. Jendra is lying face-down in the middle of the clearing, a spear rammed into his back, a horrifying amount of blood sinking into the already-rain-soaked dirt around him.

For a moment, I gape silently, unable to register anything else. Jendra is dead. _Dead_. Even though I talked to him last night. And honestly, out of the whole alliance, I probably knew him the least, but…

I'm going to die. I really, truly, am going to die, and so is Emerianne and Diana and…

Emerianne and Diana. I realize that Emerianne is lying on her stomach right in front of me, so close that I just noticed her. A Career boy is also dead, his neck torn open. There have only been two cannons. She's still alive.

And then the District Two boy looms into my vision, stepping backwards. I wince as his shoe narrowly misses Emerianne's arm. Diana lunges after him with a wild, furious yell, wielding a spear, and I realize that she must have killed the other Career boy. But she's in over her head, I can already tell. She is going to die. But maybe I can save Emerianne.

I know that I'm taking a risk, but I think I can rely on the other Careers being distracted by the fight. I reach my hand out of the bush tentatively and pat the side of Emerianne's face. My hand comes away wet with tears and rain. Her eyes shoot open instantly, and I realize with a pang of sympathy that she's been conscious the entire time, afraid to open her eyes.

I gesture for her to follow me, looking around the clearing as best I can and checking to make sure that the other Careers aren't looking. She scoots forward on her stomach, and I wince every time the dry brush crackles, but none of the teenagers in the clearing are paying attention. There is a bloody slash across her back, but it doesn't seem terribly deep.

My eyes widen as Diana charges at the Career boy, and I realize instantly what's going to happen, what she doesn't notice in her berserk state. I know that I should look away, but I can't. Emerianne sees my wide eyes and starts to turn, but I lean to the side, blocking her view just as Diana charges onto the saber. I know that we're the same age, but for some reason I don't want her to see.

I can't hear anything through the rain, but I imagine that I do, and it's the worst sound I've heard in my life. My mouth opens slightly, and I sway, feeling sick.

Emerianne mouths my name questioningly. I close my eyes and shake my head, repressing my reaction for later. We extract ourselves from the underbrush as silently as we can, flinching simultaneously when Diana's cannon fires.

We run until we're sure that we are out of earshot. "What now?" she asks quietly. I can't tell if she's crying, with the rain dripping down her face, but her voice is choked-up.

"The castle," I decide after a moment. I'm not crying. All I feel is a dull, cold weight in my stomach, because I think that, all along, I was the only one who fully understood that something like this was going to happen. Of course, I had assumed that I would be one of the first ones lying dead. "We'll find Sascha first."

Emerianne looks a little confused, but she follows me as I jog the path between the clearing and the… place. When we get to where Sascha had been sitting, though, there's nothing there. I continue on to the clearing, but he's not there, either. But there have only been three cannon, and I know who they were. I don't understand. Where would he go? Why?

"He left, didn't he?" Emerianne whispers.

"He's around here _some_where," I say testily. "He can't exactly leave the arena." I can't help feeling a bit abandoned, although I guess he might have felt exactly the same way. I suppose I sort of ignored him when I ran by, but he had to understand, didn't he? Of course, I don't know why he was sitting there in the first place… "We've got to go to the castle anyway," I finally decide. "The weather's getting worse. We have to get in before the Careers go back. They won't look for us there." The last part isn't necessarily true, but I figure that if I have to get murdered I'd rather do it in comfort than in a flood or blizzard or whatever the weather worsens to tomorrow.

"Nine. Three out of nine…" Emerianne whispers to herself. I don't ask her what she's talking about, because I already know. I nod in silent agreement. She gives me a sad, mournful look, and I can't believe that this is the same Emerianne I met during the Reaping. The Emerianne who loves the color yellow and apples and fresh-baked bread, the one with seven siblings, the one who wouldn't drink the orange juice on the train but adored the cider and hot chocolate.

And now she's standing in front of me in the pouring rain, looking like her entire world just collapsed. My sympathy isolates itself on her for a moment, even though I know that I should be feeling worse for the dead, and just as bad for myself. And suddenly, I have a new motivation to survive. I don't want her to look like this for me.

**Next up will be Kendal, Ariele, and possibly Eliza.**


	26. Day 4, Part 1: Storm

**Erm, hey there! You know what, I'm not even going to say anything.**

**Kendal Resista, District 3, 15 years old**

I wake up slowly, but once I'm awake, I wonder how I've been sleeping. Without opening my eyes, I can tell that the Gamemakers have been messing with the weather again. Almost no light is coming in through the window. The wind is roaring and howling outside to the point that I swear that I can feel the castle shaking. Even though the window is just a tiny slit, a strong enough breeze to whip my hair around my face is getting in.

I mutter to myself as I rise from the couch I slept on, glancing halfheartedly around for something to cover the window with. I turn to check and see if there's a tapestry on the wall, and shiver when I am suddenly faced with a black suit of armor. It looms above my head, barely visible in the darkness. I find myself unable to look into the pure blackness that fills its pronged helmet, and I detour to avoid stepping into the range of the massive battleaxe it clutches.

Suddenly, I want Borge to wake up. I know that I'm being paranoid, but honestly, is it really my fault? This is the Hunger Games. How do I know that the thing isn't going to start chasing me around the room?

Borge is asleep in an armchair in the corner of the room. The fireplace juts from the wall slightly, directly between him and the knight, and I wonder if Borge had noticed it before I did. If so, I wouldn't blame him for wanting to put something between them. The thing is _creepy._

I throw it one last suspicious glance as I kneel in front of the fireplace, scratching my head and trying not to think about the fact that I'm definitely in battleaxe range right now. It's daytime, or at least I think it is, but the room is way too dark without any sunlight. I suppose that we could open the door and let in light from the hallway, but there are still those people out there and somehow I have a feeling that that wouldn't be the best decision I've made.

Which means I've got to start a fire, and I'm at a complete loss. All we've got are a knife each and some food and water. There's wood in the fireplace, but how do I get a spark? Metal on rock makes sparks, right? I drag my knife blade against the stone experimentally, wincing at the shivery vibration it sends up my arm, but it doesn't do anything other than dull my knife slightly. I swing the blade against the corner of one of the stones lining the fireplace, and this time I get a tiny spark. Picking up a few shavings of wood from inside the hearth, I repeat the process, until finally the shavings catch fire. I drop them with a yelp, scorching my hand and narrowly avoiding burning the whole castle down, but I've got my fire.

And as soon as I've got it, I wish it would go away, but I don't really have any method of putting it out. I thought the room was creepy before, but that was nothing compared to how it is now. The knight is lit from the side, his dark armor reflecting a dull red glow. The constant play of the flames makes it look like he's moving every time he's in my peripheral vision, which seems to be pretty much all the time, no matter which way I'm looking. Flickering shadows dart along the wall, and the storm is still screaming and howling outside.

I scowl. Honestly, what is _with _this? I'm not so scared that I'm going to have a heart attack and die, so what's the point of creeping me out like this? That's just mean.

I glance over at Borge again. I don't really understand how he manages to sleep so soundly even though he spends most of the daylight hours unconscious, but he's sleeping like the dead.

I blink, wincing at the accuracy of my assessment.

Borge chooses that moment to wake up. He mumbles something incoherent, shifting and barely catching himself before he tumbles onto the floor, and I stifle a laugh. "Good morning," he yawns, sitting up. "It _is_ morning, right?" he asks confusedly, staring around the dark room. I don't miss the way that his eyes avoid the knight, and he jumps slightly when the fire gives a particularly loud hiss.

"I think so," I reply. "Sorta hard to be sure, isn't it?"

Borge nods in agreement. "Anything left for breakfast?" He glances hopefully in the direction of the small corner table where we usually leave the food we don't eat immediately, but there's only a small piece of bread, not enough for both of us.

"No problem," I shrug as my heart sinks. "I'm sure there's plenty out there for us."

"Yeah," he says, not looking much happier about it than I feel. I think we're both thinking the same thing. The people, the weather, the plants outside… there's definitely a trend here, and I have a bad feeling about what awaits us in the hallway when we try to take the food. But what choice do we have?

"I've got it," I assure him, gripping my knife and striding toward the door as confidently as I can.

"No, I'll, uh, come too," he protests, following me. I'm about to tell him it's fine, but I see the pleading look in his eye, and I bite it back. He wants to do something brave, and who am I to tell him no? I hesitate with my hand on the door handle, then take a deep breath and swing it toward me.

And Borge and I yell in unison. The people are standing just outside the door, staring at us. After a moment, they seem to register our presence, and the blank stares narrow into ferocious glares. They tense collectively, like a wave about to surge forward, and I slam the door shut as fast as I can.

"Lock it!" Borge exclaims. I do, biting my lip and glancing at the single piece of bread and pitcher of water in the corner.

Now what?

**Arielle Nikko, District 8, 16 years old**

This is probably bad.

I press my back into the soaked, swaying tree trunk, the wind whipping the rain into my face. At least it conceals the sound of my breathing. My fingers tighten around the hilt of my small silver knife, the one weapon I have. It won't be enough.

I risk a glance around the tree. They're still advancing, three shadowy figures emerging from the curtain of rain. I don't know what happened to the fourth one, but it doesn't matter. Three will be more than enough to kill me.

They can't see me, but they know I'm around here somewhere. It's only a matter of time. They've been following me since the morning, when one of them caught sight of me in the orchard. Always the same process. They get too close to me, and I'm forced to break cover and run. They follow. I watch them approach, and once again, they get to the point where they'll stumble right over me if I don't flee. I know that I need to just run far enough that they won't find me again, but I can't. I'm completely exhausted. I won't even be able to maintain these short sprints for long.

I stab the tree trunk with my knife angrily, then wrench it out and run away again. My breath burns in my throat and my legs are on fire, but what choice do I have? I'm condemned, I suppose. I'm only prolonging my death, but I can't override my instincts with suicidal logic.

I glance over my shoulder. The Careers are closer than I expected them to be. They're running, waterproof jackets that I suppose must have been sponsor gifts cracking in the hurricane. I face forward again, knowing that looking behind me is slowing me down, but I can't help but to keep turning. Now they're so close that I can see their expressions. The smaller girl is scowling, the boy's face is blank, and the bigger girl looks slightly sick.

I keep running, trying to beat down the increasing sense of hopelessness. Of course they're faster than me; they've been training for this. There's no way I can outrun them forever.

I duck behind another tree, sobbing for breath. I think that I hear their footsteps, but I must be imagining it; there's no way I can hear anything through this wind. Almost as soon as I think that, I'm proved wrong. There is a _crack_ above my head, and I look up to see that the trunk of my tree has just snapped, because apparently my being chased by the Career pack just wasn't exciting enough for the Capitol. I dive to the side just in time as the tree's crown crashes to the ground, the broken section of the trunk landing just where I was standing.

The Careers will be on me in seconds. I scramble to my feet, slipping and skidding on the muddy ground, the wind almost throwing me back down. The trees. It's my only chance.

For a moment, I debate the wisdom of climbing a tree when I just saw one fall, but the dull glimmer of the Careers' weapons in the rain convinces me. I throw myself into one last sprint, picking a tree at random and clawing my way up the trunk. The bigger girl definitely can't follow me, but the smaller one almost certainly can, and I'm not sure about the boy. I hope not. I remember his attempt to kill me at the Cornucopia; no doubt he has a score to settle with me.

The Careers circle the tree like wolves as I haul myself onto a narrow branch, shaking in the cold and gasping for breath. The leafless tree offers no concealment, but at least I've bought myself some time to recover. I watch them huddle together, gesticulating as they debate what to do. The argument seems to be mostly between the Twos; the other girl keeps glancing over her shoulder.

So. I am quite possibly about to die. I consider that fact for a moment, and find that I am able to accept it quite easily. Well, not accept it, exactly, but comprehend it. My heart will stop beating. I will stop breathing. The electrical impulses flashing across my brain will stop, and my consciousness will cease to exist.

Great.

The Careers seem to have arrived at a conclusion, one that seems a bit obvious to me. The Two girl, scowling so vehemently that I can make it out through the rain, starts pulling herself clumsily up the trunk. I tighten my grip on my knife.

**Just out of curiosity, is anyone still reading this? I'll certainly stick with it if you are, but I'm having a bit of writer's block concerning this story, so…**


	27. Day 4, Part 2: Snap

**Gueeeesss who now has a completely different plan for how to end this? Mwahahahaha. Ooh, now I'm feeling inspired again. Thanks to katszoa for actually having the idea. XD Unfortunately, due to this change of plans, a few of you are going to get a bit gypped on POVs. I really am sorry about that, but I think this storyline works a lot better.**

**Happy birthday, Ella and Jakito!**

**Sascha Ire, District 9, 15 years old**

I've never climbed a tree during a hurricane before. I'm happy I did. It seems like an experience everyone should have before they die.

So maybe I've got a bit of a death wish. I didn't see the faces in the sky last night, but it occurs to me that there have only been three cannons. At least one of my friends is alive. I could have tried to protect them, instead of doing this. Too late now, I ruminate, twanging rainwater off my bowstring thoughtfully and watching the figures on the ground pace back and forth.

I lured the mutts out. It made sense at the time. I'm going to end up dead, but it's going to happen my on my terms. I refuse to die without redeeming myself, which means that I have to face them again. And that's what I'm doing. Sort of.

As usual, I didn't quite calculate before I acted. My plan had been to climb a tree and shoot as many as I could, but that was before I realized that they could climb, too. I leaned that the hard way when one of them landed on top of me and almost ripped my head off. I was forced to loop back to the tunnel clearing, which was the only place where there was a tree that stood completely alone, far enough from the others that they could only get at me by climbing the trunk.

I smirk as I imagine the Gamemakers' frustration. Sure, I've only got five arrows left, but the mutts stopped coming at me after I shot three of them. They're obviously programmed with some kind of intelligence, and that intelligence has taught them that climbing my tree equals eating an arrow. The Gamemakers can release them and call them back, but I don't think that they can control their every action, judging by the fact that they're not attacking me anymore.

On the downside, I'm completely cornered. I have no idea what kind of psychotic pride drove me to do this, but it's going to be the death of me one way or the other. Just like Mrs. Faden knew, I suppose. But I'm happy I did it. Because I was terrified. Completely, utterly terrified, the first time the mutts got me. And I don't _do_ terrified. I refuse to let anything on this planet have that kind of control over me, which meant that I had to face the mutts again. They're not nearly as frightening in the daylight. No. They're not frightening at all.

And then Diana knocked me down, and I know she was right to do it. From her point of view, at least. I would've gotten killed. I couldn't help my alliance. So I came here.

I lean against the trunk, stretching casually. It's just for show, really. I intend to needle the Gamemakers as much as possible, until they finally get angry enough to knock my tree down or something. I'll be crushed or torn apart, but in the process they'll be proving to all of Panem that they deliberately kill tributes they don't like.

I shoot another mutt just for the hell of it, smiling as my arrow cuts through the wind and slams through its throat. Call it target practice. I can feel the wound on my shoulder opening again when I tense my muscles to shoot, but I don't really mind. The rain washes the blood away, and besides, I can barely feel it through the cold and the wind.

I glance curiously at the dark tunnel mouth. So maybe something snapped when I almost died in there. Well, I like my new philosophy. Nothing to live for. Nothing to die for. Never grow old and weak, never be controlled by anyone. I'm not scared of anything. Not when I'm awake, anyway.

I scowl murderously at the thought of the nightmares I've had the last few nights. About the mutts, of course. The mutts and the tunnel… I know they've made me fall from grace. My alliance thought I'd lost it. That I was paranoid.

Well, I'm not paranoid, anyway.

I can't keep a genuinely happy smile off my face as another mutt starts clawing its way up the tree, hissing as the trunk shakes in the wind. I let it get close, close enough that I can look right into its blind eyes. I tap it delicately on the head with my finger, whipping my hand back and laughing to myself as its jaws snap shut on empty air. Then I shoot it through the throat, roaring with laughter as it tumbles earthward.

Three arrows now. Then I start fighting with my fists, I suppose.

I look up interestedly as a distant shriek echoes through the woods, followed by a cannon. I can't really see anything through the rain, but the mutts on the ground start keening in unison. A pack of them splits off, bounding toward the noise. I let them go. I don't know who it was, but I would recognize Diana or Emerianne's voices.

A particularly strong gust of wind almost blows me out of the tree, whipping rain into my face. Yes, if I'm going to die, this is definitely the way to do it.

Another mutt plucks up some nerve.

Two arrows now.

**Eliza Cabrera, District 2, 18 years old**

Screw this. I mean, give me a break. Since when was this in the job description? Kill people, yes. Climb trees during hurricanes to fight bitchy tributes with knives, not so much.

I hate to admit it to myself, but I let Jasper bully me into this. I'm _not_ scared of him. At least I wasn't before, but he's been acting pretty strange since the deaths. Manic, almost. Despite my current precarious situation, I can't stifle a smirk at the thought of the great Jasper Johar losing his mind. How disappointed Vaila would be.

The girl, whatserface there, Arielle, peeps over the side of the branch. She doesn't look all that surprised to see me coming after her, which I guess is understandable; this was definitely the predictable thing to do. I give her a smug smirk, even though I'm not exactly brimming with confidence at the moment. I'm not afraid of heights, but this particular situation is a special kind of crazy.

Her knife shows over the edge of the branch, warning me that I'll get skewered through my hand if I try to climb any farther. Well, we'll see about that. My mace hangs from my wrist by a loop on its handle, and I wrap one arm around the trunk of the tree, wielding my weapon with the other. I swing it at her, forcing her to whip her hand back to avoid getting all the bones in it broken. She holds the high ground, but my mace has a further reach than her knife. I inch upward, warning her off every time the glimmer of her knife appears. Eventually, she scrambles to a higher branch, out of my reach, but I don't mind. I climb onto the branch recently deserted by her. As long as I'm not fighting while clinging to the trunk like a demented monkey, she will die.

I remember dreading this before the Games. No matter what I may have told myself, I really didn't want to kill. Not anymore. I mean, I'm not looking _forward _to it, but I just don't see the problem anymore. If I don't do it, someone else will. It's not my fault.

I'm not really sure how I feel about the fact that I'm apparently a heartless murderer. I mean, I know I should feel great about it. I'm District Two; that's what we're about. Honestly, I'd been worried I was going to start crying or something when tributes started dying, but even when Verres died… Sure, I wish Verres was still around. He was the only other sane one I had to talk to. But I'm not exactly mourning his death. Three down, three to go, I can't help thinking. And that statistic will change in a few minutes.

I smirk slightly, swinging my mace with all my might and hitting the branch the girl is sitting on. She yelps, clutching it as it shakes and almost throws her off. How should I go about killing her, I wonder? Getting close enough to land a deadly blow with my mace seems like more trouble than it's worth. I swing experimentally at the branch once again, grinning like a shark at the satisfying _crack_.

Arielle's eyes widen, and she scrambles up to a higher branch. It's fine with me. I repeat the process, slowly dogging her up the tree, until she finally reaches the point where she has to either come down and fight me, or fall. By this point, we're so high that the wind is making the tree sway almost enough to throw us out of it, and a fall from this height would be deadly. It occurs to me that I don't actually have to let her make the decision. She has already climbed as high as she can go; what's to stop me from just knocking her down now? I bare my teeth, swinging the mace one last time against her thin branch. It snaps.

She falls with a shriek, clawing for anything with which to catch herself. She finds something. Unfortunately, that "something" is my foot. This time I am the one who shrieks, as the branch supporting me snaps under our combined weight. My stomach rises into my throat as we tumble earthward, and my mace is torn from my hand. Soaked branches whip me across the face, and it finally dawns on me through my panic that grabbing said branches would probably be a smart thing to do. I try, but they slip through my grasp. Finally, just before we reach the point where the branches end, I manage to hook my arms around one. It takes me a moment to realize that Arielle's grip on me is gone. A cannon fires.

Oh.

I grit my teeth, hanging onto the branch for all I'm worth and resisting the urge to look down. A fiery pain radiates from my right wrist, a pain that I recognize. It's broken. I can hold onto this branch with just my arms, but how the hell and I supposed to climb down with a broken wrist?

I'm expecting Jasper to make some kind of a mocking comment, but he keeps his trap shut, surprisingly. "You okay?" Tied calls up to me, her rough voice faint through the howling wind.

I grunt, trying and failing to swing a leg over the tree limb. Should I admit that my wrist is broken? That's pretty much asking for Jasper to kill me, but how else do I get down? I risk a glance at the ground. Arielle is sprawled on her back. But she fell from much higher, I tell myself. That wouldn't happen to me if I fell. Would it? Maybe not, but from this height I'm almost positive that I'd wind up with a broken leg at least.

I sigh angrily, swallowing my pride. "Not really. I think I broke my wrist," I say, keeping the pain out of my voice.

"I c'n catch you. Let go," Tied calls matter-of-factly.

I consider her offer bemusedly. The funny thing is, I trust her completely. She's definitely big and strong enough to do it, and betrayal just isn't in her nature. The only thing that worries me is Jasper. All he has to do is stab Tied in the back while I'm in freefall, and I'll be easy prey after whatever injuries I'd sustain landing. And if I've thought of that, he probably did before he even volunteered as tribute.

Except, he hasn't, which isn't like him at all. Tied is staring up at me, directly underneath me, paying him absolutely no attention. I don't think the thought that we could betray her has occurred to her any more than the thought of her betraying us. Jasper, strangely, doesn't even have his saber drawn. He's standing several feet away, staring off in precisely the opposite direction. Maybe he really is cracking.

I'm starting to lose my grip. Ah well, nothing else for it, I think with a mental shrug. I let go.

Jasper whirls, drawing his saber impossibly fast.

_Damn_ it.

My brain kicks into lightning speed, analyzing my options in the few instants before I reach the ground. If I warn Tied, she can defend herself, but she won't catch me. I'll probably survive, but I'll be hurt, not to mention completely screwed if Jasper defeats Tied, which is likely. If I don't, she might have time to catch me before he kills her, but even if she doesn't land on me when she falls I'll still be injured and unarmed. Easy prey either way.

So I have a choice between warning Tied, breaking a few bones and trusting my life to her fighting abilities, or not doing anything and letting Jasper kill both of us.

"Behind you!" I screech, knowing that it's probably too late anyway. Tied keeps her eyes on me, her jaw clenched. I close my eyes, wincing in anticipation of the number of awful things that might be about to happen.

Tied catches me, and drops me on the ground almost as soon as she does so, freeing her arms. I gasp as the air is knocked out of me, the impact jarring my broken wrist.

Above me, things seem to happen in slow motion. Jasper's saber darts forward like a striking snake. Tied's hammer swings like a juggernaut. I know that Jasper's brain will be analyzing the situation a mile a minute, but for once, I know what will happen before he does. He realizes that there is absolutely nothing he can do to stop Tied's hammer, and hesitates for a fraction of a second. She doesn't have that problem. The war hammer smashes into Jasper's side with a series of _crack_s that make me wince, shattering his arm and probably most of his ribs, too. His eyes narrow, and he looks at Tied with an expression of utter fury.

I can see the exact moment when the pain hits him, and I can't prevent myself from feeling a little smug. He totally deserved that. He's struggling not to react, but I can tell by the set of his jaw that he won't last long. As it turns out, he takes the third option, giving a small groan and collapsing to the ground unconscious.

"Uh, thanks," I say, staggering to my feet and tracking down my mace, fully intent on smashing Jasper's skull.

"Mm," Tied replies distractedly, peering off into the woods in the same direction she was looking before. Instantly, I'm on guard. I've noticed that Tied seems to have some kind of a sixth sense for danger. Now that I think of it, she was probably fully aware of what Jasper was up to even before he drew his saber. I glance toward him, half-expecting him to leap up and attack us, but he's not faking it. Some spiteful part of me is hoping he _does_ wake up, just so he can get the full experience of his injuries. Still, all things considered, I decide that I like him better unconscious.

Tied swears a truly impressive swear, one that I'm pretty sure came straight from the boatyards of District Four. I follow her gaze, and promptly match it with a curse of my own.

A pack of mutts, the same ones that attacked us on the second day, are scuttling toward us. They're pretty far off, barely visible through the rain, but there's no question that they know we're here. I turn and run, naturally expecting that Tied will follow me. She doesn't. She runs toward Jasper, picking him up.

"Are you insane?" I shout, instantly regretting it when the mutts respond with a wild keening. "He's only unconscious because he tried to kill you!" I hiss more quietly. She shoots me a dangerous glare, daring me to argue the point. I groan, rolling my eyes, but keep my objections to myself.

We take off through the woods. I use my mace to smash branches out of our way, but I can't hit nearly as hard with my left hand as with my right. Tied's footsteps pound along behind me, the dead weight that is Jasper Johar making them heavier than usual. My hair, tied behind my head, is starting to come undone, soaked silver strands whipping across my face. I swear that I can feel the wind picking up, just to make things a little more difficult.

Four dead. Two to go. If she would only drop him, that number would sink to one. The selfish part of my brain realizes, though, that if she refuses to leave him behind and gets herself eaten by the mutts in the process, this round will be over, and I will be the only surviving Career.

But to my surprise, I genuinely don't want that to happen. I want Tied to survive, for as long as possible at least. Jasper, not so much.

Tied's breathing is already labored. His weight is tiring her out and slowing her down, and she isn't all that fast to start out with. "Dammit, Tied, would you just _drop him?_" I scream through the rising wind. She only glares at me again.

Tied Edison deserves to win this. More than me. Certainly more than the worthless, heartless jackass she's about to die for. But what can I do? I can't carry him, and I can't convince her to let him die. There's no way we can make it to the castle before the mutts catch us.

Two more deaths, though. We can't be the only tributes in danger right now. If I can just hold them off, maybe I can keep us alive.

"What're you doing?" Tied grunts as I dart behind her.

"Keep going," I snap back. "I'm right behind you." I have no idea how well I can fight them with my left hand, but I'm determined to try.

**Ah, my darling mutts. I'd almost forgotten about them. Yup, Sascha loses it and Tied almost kills Jasper. Just out of curiosity, did anyone **_**not**_** see those coming? XD**


	28. Day 4, Part 3: Unlucky

**I lost my flipping notebook. **_**Damn**_** it. Now I have to count up all the POVs, again, and figure out whose I was supposed to be writing from. For some reason, I have a vague feeling I'd been intending to do Jasper next, but of course there are some technical difficulties with that… sigh. Oh, and as a general rule, the cannon referred to is Arielle's; I'm using it to set the timeline. Basically, the point is that all of this is happening pretty much simultaneously.**

**Merryn Circa, District 6, 13 years old**

Oops.

I lick my lips nervously, tightening my fingers around the hilt of my little knife and watching as the people step closer. Coming into the castle should have been a good idea, right? Apparently not.

I would have expected the mutts' faces to be blank, but they're not, and it's almost worse. Instead of being monsters, they're just people. People who loathe me enough to tear me apart.

Emerianne and I finally got into the castle after being forced to hide under some bushes when the Careers unknowingly followed us, after… what happened. Finally, they set off in a different direction, and we ran to the building. And by the time we noticed the people– and, more importantly, the fact that the people were coming after us with knives– they had already gotten behind us, chasing us deeper into the castle.

I lost my sense of direction a long time ago, although I know we're several floors up. The mutts have chased us down a long, plush hallway. To my dismay, the corridor has proven to be a dead end, ending in a wall of solid stone. There are a few doors along the walls, but the tide of mutts has already passed them, cutting off any chance of escape.

Next to me, Emerianne is shaking, her eyes wide. I realize that she is unarmed, since her belt of knives was left in the clearing. Should I give her my knife? I know that she can throw it, but since it's the only weapon we have, throwing it probably isn't a smart thing to do. Taking another look at the approaching horde, though, I realize there's nothing much that Ican do with it, either. I'd be lucky to take down a single one of the things. And there have to be at least thirty of them, probably more.

"It's, um, okay," I say, trying to calm Emerianne down. It's probably the single most moronic statement I've made in my life, and the fact that my voice comes out as a squeak probably doesn't make it sound any more convincing, but she nods quickly. I consider adding that it's not like we didn't know this was coming all along, but then I realize there's a distinct possibility that she actually _didn't_ realize it. Or if she did, she wouldn't have acknowledged it, at least.

And then the mutts reach us. I stab my knife reflexively at a hand that stretches toward my face, the blade passing clean through the person's palm. They don't react, for which I'm unbelievably thankful. I know it was ridiculous, but some tiny part of me had been afraid that these people were real, somehow forced by the Capitol to do this. But no. They're mutts, definitely mutts.

I really wish they wouldn't bleed, though.

I try to defend Emerianne, but there's not much I can do. I'm no bigger than she is. My knife is the only advantage I have, and it's next to useless.

Emerianne struggles gamely as one of the people grabs her arm, but they don't let go. Then it starts dragging her away. I find myself close to panic as she fights the thing desperately, unable to away. I can't watch her die. Please don't let her die.

I throw myself at the mutt, even though two more have already grabbed her. She's completely frozen by now, eyes wide with fear. But I've barely moved when a hand, neither warm nor cold, closes around my own arm. Then another, then another, wrenching my arms behind my back and dragging me backward. Emerianne screams desperately at the mutts as one of them steps in front of me. It looks like a young man, maybe twenty years old. By its appearance alone, there is no way to tell that it isn't human. Its eyes are brown, shot with green, with small laugh lines in the corners. It puts its hands around my neck and begins to choke me.

Instantly, a cannon fires. For a moment, I think absurdly that it's mine, but then I realize I'm not dead. But I can't breathe. At first, I'm more shocked than anything else, staring silently at the monster choking the life out of me. For a moment, it seems to be returning the gaze. But then I realize that its eyes are unfocused, staring right through me. Could it be blind? The mutts did seem weirdly clumsy when they grabbed us. But of course, it's impossible to tell.

My oxygen runs out, and I panic, thrashing desperately as Emerianne screams. I hope they aren't hurting her. The toes of my shoes scrape the stone floor as I fight unsuccessfully to free myself. I begin to feel dizzy. Will this be how I die? Right here, like this? It doesn't scare me, but death looks very different when it's right in front of my face, whether I saw it coming or not.

And suddenly, there is a whirl of motion, and I can breathe again. I'm lying on the ground on my stomach, part of the mutt's head sitting in front of my face. There's a warm, wet weight on my shoulder, and I bite my lip as I realize where the rest of the mutt must be.

Then it moves.

I jump upright with a hoarse yelp, cannoning straight into a girl. I can tell by her age that she's a tribute, not a mutt, since the mutts all seem to be adults, and she's holding a knife. Suddenly, her hand shoots toward me. Before I can transfer my panic from one possible harbinger of my doom to the next, the knife slashes past my face, burying itself with an awful _squelch _in something immediately behind me.

I realize that she just stabbed the mutt. I also realize that if the mutt is missing half of its head and is still standing, it probably won't be bothered by a little thing like a knife wound. The girl apparently realizes that as well, because she yanks me out of the way just before it tries to grab me again.

I notice the boy on the other side of the hallway. Once I see the two of them together, I realize that these are the District Three tributes, the ones who have been missing for almost the entire Games. They must have been in the castle. But what are they doing _here? _Right now?

I do a double take when I realize that the boy is swinging an enormous, dark battleaxe, so huge that I'm amazed he can lift it. Although the mutts clearly can't be destroyed, he seems to have discovered a fairly surefire way of dealing with them. Namely, slicing their legs off. Emerianne stands behind him, looking slightly stunned, but alive.

"Um, Borge, I think we should probably go," the girl says.

"Uh? Oh, uh, yeah," he agrees breathlessly. The look in his eyes is one of innocent surprise, and I get the feeling that he never quite imagined himself killing mutts with a battleaxe.

The hallway is a scene of total carnage. I simply shut it out, relegating the horror for later, because I can't deal with it now. Emerianne looks like she might throw up. The Three boy still just looks vaguely confused, and the girl can't seem to decide between amusement at his expression or disgust at the blood splattered everywhere.

"Come on," the girl says, pointing vaguely at a doorway farther down the hallway. Emerianne and I follow her dumbly while the boy provides a rearguard, mutilating the mutts that periodically rise and come after us, often dragging themselves with their hands after having lost their legs to the axe previously.

The room is almost cozy, with a few couches and a fire in the hearth. We sit gratefully, still completely lost for words, while the girl closes and locks the door. "I'm Kendal," she introduces herself. "I know you're District Six, but what are your names?"

"Merryn," I whisper, adding "And that's Emerianne," when she doesn't say anything.

Kendal nods. "Nice to meet you. We heard you in the hallway, and we figured, well, we only need two more dead, right? And there are still three Careers left, maybe, so why not let them help fill the quota?"

Two more dead. Right. I remember the cannon that fired while the mutt was trying to kill me. That's the only cannon left unaccounted for. I know that it could have been the any of the Careers, the Eight girl, or Sascha.

A _thud_ from the door makes us all jump. We whip toward it, just in time for it to shake under another impact.

"I thought I got them all!" Borge says, his voice almost indignant.

"Not in the whole castle," Kendal says grimly, rising to her feet again. "Isn't there something we can barricade it with?"

We shove everything we can find against the door, even a massive suit of armor, but the entire construction still sways at each impact. There's nothing else in the room to put in front of it. The four of us back away silently, each of us gripping our weapons. Even Emerianne seems prepared to fight with her fists.

_Crack._

They're breaking through.

**Jasper Johar, District 2, 18 years old**

I have no idea what's happening. All I know is that I am in unimaginable pain, and that Tied Edison defeated me. Vaila will be furious. And I am surprised to realize that I honestly don't care. Vaila can go screw herself. I just want it to stop.

My mind comes into clearer focus. Hissing reaches my ears, and I recognize it as the mutts from before. Chasing us. I haven't opened my eyes, but I realize someone is carrying me, every step jolting the bones that I know are broken. The only person it could be is Tied. I am both furious and amazed. It doesn't make sense. Why would she do that? How _dare_ she do that? But as much as I hate to admit it to myself, I'm thankful that she did.

She stumbles, almost tripping, inadvertently crushing my ribs as she catches her balance. An instant later, my world is silent again.

**Eliza Cabrera, District 2, 16 years old**

I take a deep breath at the sound of a fifth cannon. One more now. Just one more. But they're so close. Panic rises in my throat at the sound of their awful hissing. I can't stop myself from imagining their teeth sinking into my neck, blind eyes staring into mine…

We keep running. I know Tied can't go any further. She stumbles with every step, her eyes half closed, and I realize that I will have to make my stand. Gripping my mace in my left hand, I turn to face the mutts.

**Borge Limbell, District 3, 14 years old**

It happens in slow motion. Our entire barricade is thrown aside as the door slams open and the mutts flood into the room. They seem even wilder now, teeth bared and eyes shining. One throws itself toward the Sixes, lips drawn back as if to tear out their throats.

Steeling myself, I prepare to swing the axe, but Kendal beats me to it. She dives forward, ramming her knife into the thing's chest, her weight carrying both of them to the floor. Instantly, three more mutts are on her.

And I know what I have to do. Biting my lip and blinking back tears, I shove the younger kids into a corner. They'll survive, I realize. If Kendal and I die, the Games will be over.

But then I remember that I am wrong. If Kendal and I die, then the Games will have just begun.

**Kendal Resista, District 3, 15 years old**

Just before a mutt's arm blocks my view, I see Borge grit his teeth and swing the axe, destroying a row of the mutts. He'll take care of the Sixes.

My knife arm is pinned. I have no idea how many of them are attacking me, but I realize with absolute certainty that this is how I die. I'm not scared, really. I just feel guilty, for doing this to everyone who knew me. My friends, my parents, even Borge, although I know that he at least will understand. But for the rest of them, my life wasn't really mine to give.

**Tied Edison, District 4, 18 years old**

Run. Run. Keep running. That's all.

A cannon fires, the fifth one total. Eliza shoots me a single pleading, desperate look. I _know_ she's right. If I leave him, this part of the Games is over. I don't owe him anything. In fact, I owe him less than nothing. I could kill him myself and no one could tell me I was a bad person for it.

But I just can't do it. I can't see how leaving him to the mutts is any different from killing him myself. I hurt him, sure, but I knew I didn't swing my hammer hard enough to kill him. And anyway, that's an awful death to wish on anyone. His eyelids flutter slightly, and I know he's not completely unconscious. If I leave him now, he'll feel it when they kill him, and I won't, I can't, let that happen to anyone.

I can't run anymore. Eliza senses it, turning to face the mutts.

"Thanks for… staying," I puff, putting Jasper down as gently as I can. I dropped my hammer. I'll have to fight with my fists.

I can't read the look on Eliza's face, but she nods. "It's nothing."

**Merryn Circa, District 6, 13 years old**

I feel small. Emerianne and I cower against the wall, trying not to cry at the sound of Kendal's cannon. I can't believe this is happening.

Borge is shaking, but he's still fighting, splattering all of us with blood as the endless waves of mutts throw themselves at him. I don't know why he's doing this. I don't know why Kendal did what she did. I don't know why either of them came to help us in the first place.

One of the mutts knocks Borge to the ground.

Maybe I _do_ know.

**Emerianne Rivkin, District 6, 13 years old**

I cling desperately to Merryn as the red chaos rages before us. Mutts loom in front of us, faces twisted in awful fury, only to fall to Borge's axe. But I know he can't fight forever. Either I will have to watch one of them be torn apart, or it will happen to me.

A mutt ducks under Borge's swing, hitting him across the face hard enough that he falls to the ground. Before I even register what has happened, Merryn launches himself at it. Unlike Kendal, his weight isn't nearly enough to knock it over, but it is distracted from Borge. As if from miles away, I watch as the mutt grabs my District partner and throws him against the wall.

I fall to my knees next to him as he crashes to the ground. I can't scream. A mutt's hand seizes my shoulder, and I barely notice. I clasp Merryn's hand frantically. His eyelids flutter.

"You're…" he says quietly, with a small, content smile. The mutt jerks me backwards, tearing Merryn's hand from mine.

An instant later, a cannon fires. The mutt drops me.

It's over.

**Sascha Ire, District 9, 15 years old**

"Congratulations, tributes! You have made it through Round One of the One Hundred and Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games! Please make your way to the Cornucopia to board the hovercraft. Please put down any weapons. Any tribute who attacks another tribute will be disqualified."

Disqualified, huh? I stumble to my feet, shaking my head dazedly. I'd been ready for the mutt to try and bite me, but I certainly hadn't been prepared for it to shove me out of the goddamned tree.

The storm fades away impossibly quickly, and the mutts have already vanished back into the tunnel. The sudden silence is eerie. I feel like I'm the only tribute left, which I suppose is what I ought to be hoping for, but the thought almost scares me. I run toward the castle, feeling strangely nervous in the empty woods.

I'm the last one in the Cornucopia room, but despite my impressive collection of bumps and bruises, my condition is far from the worst. The Career girls are sitting next to each other, leaning against the golden horn, weary and wary. The Two boy is laying on his back near them, although he looks like he's regaining consciousness. I don't envy him for it. Just by looking, I can tell he's probably the worst off out of all of us. The girls look decidedly shell-shocked, and all three of them are soaking wet. I realized that they must have been outside, too.

Before I can register anything else, Emerianne comes out of nowhere. She throws her arms around my waist, sobbing, and I'm at a total loss. I realize that the Three boy is leaning against a wall, bloody but alive, which means that I'm the last surviving member of her alliance. And I feel awful. I abandoned her, her and Merryn, and now Merryn is clearly dead. Maybe I could have prevented it. Hell, I probably could have prevented it by jumping out of the tree and letting the mutts kill me.

But what purpose would it have served? They couldn't both survive the next arena. As long as I'm here, I can keep her alive, at least.

A hovercraft slowly lowers itself to the smooth, rain-swept grass outside the double doors. I cast a last glance over the five other people in the room. We all know that only one of us can survive, but there's a strange comradeship in the air. We don't have to fight each other. Not yet. Not until the real Games begin.

**And thus ends Round One, Arena Two. People whose characters I killed, trust me, I feel worse about it than you do. Now, Arena One still has a looooong way to go, which means that the next round may not start for quite a while. So if you want to put a follow on Audio Crossfade, well, that might be a good plan. ;) Feedback is appreciated now more than ever, since I'm going to be planning my say in the next round.**


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